


With All the Warmth of the Sky Cell

by Redbirdblackdog



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Canon - Book, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Jaimsa, Marriage of Convenience, Sansa is 19, Strangers to Lovers, The Vale of Arryn, The Vale’s Sky Cells, There will be plot holes, Trapped in the sky cells together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redbirdblackdog/pseuds/Redbirdblackdog
Summary: It’s all just giving him a headache.“You know I could get rid of that pesky maiden-head problem for you.” Gesturing suggestively with his eyebrows. Trying to get a rise out of her, see what kind of fire lurks in that supple maiden’s body. He’s always loved pissing off Starks.She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think I’m your type, not nearly blonde enough am I?” She says it like an insult but he likes the fire he sees there. She raises her eyebrows at him like she’s expecting an answer. When none comes she continues her pacing.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 468
Kudos: 552





	1. With All the Warmth of the Sky Cell

Jaime finds her in the Vale, after recognizing her they are thrown in a cell. A very cold sky cell.

Sansa is pacing and talking out loud working how she’s going to get out of this mess.

“I was almost married!” She points at him now. “You,” she says exasperated tone. “I almost had him. I was almost married. I almost had my wedding night. I could have molded him into something... acceptable. I think?”

He scoffs, “did I ruin your chance of a happy life with your Prince Charming?”

She shakes her head, “no... hardly. I should probably thank you, it was never a good match. He’d try to rule me, rule through me. He’d run it all into the ground and argh... it is just well. I would probably have to end up killing him... and killing your children’s father is rather... distasteful.” She deadpans a cold look, then a giggle escapes bringing a softness to her face. “Except now I am stuck in here with you!” Now gesturing at him.

It is all just giving him a headache.

“You know I could get rid of that pesky maiden-head problem for you.” Gesturing suggestively with his eyebrows. Trying to get a rise out of her, see what kind of fire lurks in that supple maiden’s body. He’s always loved pissing off Starks. 

She rolls her eyes, “I don't think I am your type, not nearly blonde enough am I?” She says it like an insult but he likes the fire he sees there. She raises her eyebrows at him like she is expecting an answer. When none comes she continues her pacing. 

All of it is making him dizzy while staring up at her from his place on the ground. The head wound he took makes him a little light-headed when she moves around too fast. He watches her rip off her cloak and throw it to the ground.

“Will you not get cold princess?”

She rolls her eyes at him, “I am a Stark.” Whirling around and she heads toward the drop off. She then pauses her steps looking out at bare sky, the ground is hundreds of feet below them and the drop acts as the fourth wall of their cell. The majesty of the Eyrie stretched out before her. She looks ethereal in the evening light, framed like a goddess overseeing all of creation. Her hair is burnt brown but he can picture it as red dancing flames around her as the wind picks up. He remembers her as a girl at Winterfell, stars in her eyes and innocent as a kitten. She is not a girl anymore, she has grown into a beautiful woman who has surpassed her mothers looks.

He looks her critically. He runs his eyes over her womanly figure. Her dress is suggestive without being vulgar, the deep neckline gives him a rather good look at her breasts. The waist is laced tight creating a dramatic curve his body can not help but appreciate. As she turns he sees that fucking bow again, you would think so low on her back it would hide that curve but it somehow manages to frame it drawing his eyes to her pert arse every time she turns away. He is sure having spent time under Littlefinger’s instruction she is not so innocent anymore.

“It is... it is actually not the worst idea.” She turns toward him and bites her lip like she’ is attempting to focus on her thoughts. 

“What?” He asks a little confused. 

“You taking my maidenhead.” She says it like a Lady might ask him to escort her to dinner.

“It was a joke,” he laughs.

“It has merit,” she says shrugging her shoulders. “Even a interesting simplicity to it.” Her eyebrows scrunch together as if working through the scenario. “It could work,” she says looking distracted by the idea.

“It could not,” Jaime replies shaking his head. He shifts uncomfortably on the stone floor.

“It could work,” she says again under her breath like she can not even hear him. “He is from a strong family and it would be a powerful alliance.” 

“You are joking right?” He scoffs.

“A scandal like that might break him from his Kingsguard duties.” 

“If killing the King didn’t why would this?” 

She looks at him critically. “The Mad King was a tyrant and a monster, he should of been put down long before you had the chance... Kingslayer,” she pauses smiling. 

“It does't matter. I am Kingsgaurd no longer,” he admits. “Cersei stripped me of that duty.” 

“Even better,” she says aloud and nodding her head. “Kingslayer... you should wear it like a badge of honor” 

“That's not a very Lady-like thing to say... princess,” he replies in a mocking tone. 

“I haven't been a Lady for quite some time.” She straightens her spine and the tilt of her chin implies a confidence he would not expect to find in a girl of nineteen. “Do you not know I am nothing but Littlefinger’s bastard daughter here. Bastards grow up faster then ladies. I had no need of a Lady’s courtesies, in fact they would have left me painfully vulnerable to the real world.” 

She restarts her pacing back and forth. She is talking to herself again and ignoring him, working out the scenario. “Hmmm... all the power of the West. I think I can count on Lord Royce to stage a coup against Littlefinger, if I have a strong enough ally, that is you Lannister.” She says pointing at him for a moment then continuing her plotting. “We could strip Littlefinger of his power, strip him of the Vale. Then I’d have the West, the Vale, likely the Riverlands too, I could rally the Stark loyalists in the North...” 

“You are not seriously...” 

“You are a much better option than Harry...” 

“Who the fuck is Harry?” 

“Oh, another knight... Harrold Hardyng. The heir to the Vale of Arryn, once Sweetrobin dies. Harry is full of potential,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “He had a few allies, but someday he will control the Knights if the Vale. You are probably the better choice. Harry is handsome though,” she says almost wistfully. 

“I am fucking handsome,” he insists. He can not help but defend himself. “Charming even,” he says with a cocky smile. 

She is now looking him over critically, from head to toe and back again. “I suppose,” she says but looks rather unenthusiastic. 

He squirmed slightly under her assessment.

“But who is Harry?” 

“Oh, yes... he was one of the knights here for the tourney you may of seen him. He’s rather unforgettable in his armor. He was the one with the lovely armor; silver and polished to mirrored perfection. Gold filigree work throughout, mother of pearl inlay... oh and blue ostrich plumes out the top of his helm.” 

Jaime scowls and now she is talking again like he is not even there. He thinks back on the knights at the tourney grounds. 

“The arse?” 

“Well that’s just rude. But yes. I have heard him called ‘Harry the Arse’, it does seem rather fitting.” She shakes her head though. “You know he has two bastards already? I don’t really need more than a man with a cock I suppose. I am sure I could convince him, I almost had... till you ruined it. Harry is very persuadable with womanly charms.” She said it with a alluring smile and a sway at her hips which stirred a little something in him. 

“The arse... your goal was to convince him? How exactly would you convince him... princess?” Lowering his voice into a suggestive purr. He taunts her with that, attempting to turn the tables in his favor. “You may find there is only one part of you he desires. The one part that will win him over and once he has it he will no longer care for you. Despite your abundance of womanly assets.” He makes a gesture toward her, wanting to imply her assets have no power over him.

She rolls her eyes. Not backing down from his challenge. “Well as you so charmingly stated I am in need of a broken maidenhead and a contract of marriage. Oh and heirs of course. My choices are limited.” 

“You are serious? With the arse?” 

“I wish you would stop saying that. He is very...” she furrows her brow like she’s looking for the right word. 

“Arse-tastic?” He offers as he stands. He attempts to intimidate her with his stature now, he does not get the reaction he had expected. 

“You are terrible.” She tilts her face and looks up at him through her lashes and smiles. “Are you jealous?” 

“No,” he demands, and takes a step back from her. A lock of hair falls across her cheek and his left hand twitches to brush it away.

“Are you jealous of a...” she advances a step on him. 

“Arse?” he volunteers with a confident tone but his body takes a step backwards and his back meets the stone wall of the cell. 

“Terrible you see,” she answers shaking her head. 

She takes a step closer to him and picks up his gold hand turning it over in her hands with interest. Her fingers run across the thumb up to the wrist and her fingertips lightly graze the skin of his forarm. It feels divine and haunts him in a way he could not have imagined. 

She was so close he could count the freckles across her nose. From this distance he could even smell the lavender oil in her hair. Desire starts to pull low in his groin and he bites his lip, he doesn’t want to be manipulated again. 

She runs her hand up his arm to his shoulder and then her other hand joins the first to cup his jaw holding his gaze on her. She slides her body closer still, they are nearly touching chest to chest. She turns his face side to side, her eyes lingering on his brow, his eyes, his lips. 

He feels like livestock on the auction block. Assessed for his value. He will show her, he will turn the tables and watch this girl scamper away. 

“You want to check my teeth?” He snears.

She smiles not missing a beat, “your teeth are straight and white, Ser.” She says Ser like an insult and Kingslayer like a term of endearment. She takes another long look over his form. He tries to lean away, but she holds firm finally looking back into his eyes. Her eyes are blue with flecks of gray looking like a stormy sunset sea and he is lost in them for a moment. 

“You will do,” she says simply. Patting his cheek twice and letting her hands drag down his chest but not stepping away. 

He smiles, can not help it. Then shakes his head. He should feel offended right? He should, but he can’t help but smirk. She will back down he thinks, if he pushes. 

“So where do we start?” She asks. 

“I will not be gentle.” 

She smiles, “you will...” 

“You presume to command me?” He steps up to her, his eyes hard and wraps his right arm around her using his golden hand to press her into him. He feels her counter and the weight of her hands rest on his belt. 

She looks up into his eyes. “No, I will not command you... Jaime. I don’t think you have any desire to hurt me.” She reaches her hand up to cradle his jaw and brush her thumb gently across his cheek. “I will never ask you to do anything to dishonor you. You will have a seat at my table and I will have an ear for your council. I will carry your children. I will feed them at my breast. I will mother them and you will be their father. Our children will learn of family, duty and honor. They will learn that winter is coming. The world will hear them roar. They will remember to pay their debts and extract all they are due. They will learn it all from you and me. I will be a true wife. We will build our life stone by stone, it will endure and be stronger for all we do.” 

“You would take a pledge from me?” He tries to hold his voice steady. His left hand comes up to cradle her cheek and she responds by leaning into his touch. She is a creature that craves touch, that needs love. Maybe, just maybe he could give it to her. 

“I will accept your vow and give mine to you in return. She takes a deep breath and locks her eyes on his. “I am yours and you are mine.” 


	2. The Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My princess... I am a knight.” He says, stating the obvious. 
> 
> “I will try not to hold it against you Ser,” she snaps back. 
> 
> “I am a knight who broke his vows.” 
> 
> “A vow that would have sparred a monster, that’s no broken vow to me.” She insists. 
> 
> “The knights I have known are only men, weak to temptation, cruel when it suits them. Men who value honor over justice. Obey orders instead of defending the innocent” 
> 
> “There are no men like me,” he replies. He feels the Lannister confidence seeping into his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tweaked the first chapter a little, smoothed it out a bit.  
> I know this is crack-y, but alas I want the princess to get her knight.

“Do you not want your soulmate... your true love... princess?” He teases, she doesn't want this. To marry a cripple. 

“Life is not a song,” she replies quietly. “I want safety. I want loyalty. I want truth. I want a father for my children. I could marry the man who could give me those things. I want a man who will put family before all others. I would be his wife.” 

“A knight in shining armor?” 

“Not a knight, I have never met a knight who could give me those things. Knights only take. Knights are for parades and pageants, vows made then forgotten.” 

“My princess... I am a knight.” He says, stating the obvious. 

“I will try not to hold it against you Ser,” she snaps back. 

“I am a knight who broke his vows.” 

“A vow that would have sparred a monster, that’s no broken vow to me.” She insists. 

“The knights I have known are only men, weak to temptation, cruel when it suits them. Men who value honor over justice. Obey orders instead of defending the innocent” 

“There are no men like me,” he replies. He feels the Lannister confidence seeping into his smile. 

“That's what I am counting on,” she says quietly but he thinks he sees hope in her eyes. “Could a lion of Lannister be bound to a wolf of winter?” 

He feels bold with that. He starts to kneel but she stops him with a gentle hand to his chin and guides him back up to his full height. 

“I will not ask you to kneel to me. I will have a partner, an equal.” She says as she straightens his tunic. 

“There are some rather nice things a husband can do while kneeling, my princess,” he grins salaciously. “A wife too.” 

“Well that my Lord I will have to defer to your expertise,” and smiles up at him innocently. He watches expression change, a coy smile now accompanies laughing eyes. “You will find an apt pupil in me... husband.” 

It crosses his mind again what exactly has Littlefinger taught her, he has an idea she knows exactly what he is implying. He can not keep his left hand from carding through his hair the deep chuckle that escapes him. “I might just hold you to that... wife.” 

“So, I see no heart trees here,” he makes a point to drag his eyes across the cell. “How is this done?” 

“Actually there is, Ser,” she takes his arm and guides him toward the edge of the cell. When they get to the edge she points north and he sees the tree in question. “That Ser shall be our witness. Follow my lead. We will say our vows to the world around us.” 

“Who comes before the Gods?” She pauses for a moment. “I am Sansa of House Stark, daughter of Winter and descendent of the First Men and Kings of Winter.” She nods to him. 

“I am Jaime of house Lannister, son of the Sunset Sea and descendent of the Andals, the First Men and Kings of the Rock.” 

She turns toward him then, looking up into his eyes, “I accept this man.” 

He reaches up his left hand and brushes his thumb across her cheek, “I take this woman.” 

“I am his and he is mine.”

"I am hers and she is mine,” he answers. 

She reaches up and unpins his cloak, he manages to sweep it onto her shoulders. “The Old Gods are harsh and they require a sacrifice. Blood is enough.” She holds up the lion pin from his cloak and presses it to the pad of her first finger. She does the same to him. She wraps her hand around his first and middle fingers, holding them out to the open wall of sky. “We ask of you Old Gods to grant us family, safety and loyalty.” She then squeezes his fingers with hers, their blood mixing as it falls through the sky. 

She turns to him then and locks his eyes with hers. She slowly brings his finger to her bottom lip painting it red with his blood. Then she raises her finger treating him the same. “With a kiss, we seal our fates, bind us as family... as husband and wife.” 

He can’t help but touch his tongue to his lip, he tastes copper and earth, he smells it too. It reminds him of battles and war. It heats his blood and heightens his senses. 

She lifts onto her toes to meet his lips. He lets his right hand rest against her waist. His left hand brushes her cheek and cards through her hair. His gesture leaves a faint red line of blood across her cheek making her look fierce and brings smile to his lips. Her lips meet his, it is soft and sweet. His right hand pulls her closer and his left settles to cradle her head. She moves her lips slightly changing the angle and he feels her tongue come out to tease his lips as her mouth opens. He follows her cue and the taste of their blood turns something soft into something more feral and primal. The kiss continues deep and needy until the the little minx unexpectedly sucks on his tongue. It brings out a leonine purr from his chest. With a few chaste kisses he ends the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. “That my Lady was not your first kiss.” 

“No,” she hums her response. She pecks a kiss to his lips. “I thought I was a princess?” 

“Evasive,” he purrs “I like it. Which knight must I run through who dared to kiss a Princess like that? Say Harry the Arse, please.” 

“No knight ever had the pleasure,” she giggles. “Pillow talk and kisses. Myranda taught me. She did not want me to go to my marriage bed unaware of the pleasures to be found there.” 

“Myranda deserves a reward,” he replies leaning down to take her lips again. When he breaks the kiss he states, “The blood that's new. I have never seen that before.” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

“It's a very old tradition, outlawed by the Targaryens long ago. Deemed too distasteful for Southern chivalry.” 

“Seems so primal, but intimate. Got my blood up, like a fight,” he whispers into her ear. She is still standing in his arms. 

“The Kings of Old would take their brides at the foot of the heart tree. In front of the Gods they would consummate their bond.” 

“Barbaric,” He says looking down at her. “I like it.” 

“Where should we start?” She asks him running her hands down his chest. 

He pulls her tighter to him, pressing their hips together. “More kisses?” He asks. He strokes her neck with the thumb of his left hand. 

She licks her lips and nods in return. She tips her head and meets his lips. Two chaste kisses and he feels her tongue touch his lips. She has passion this little wolf, he will enjoy that he thinks. The kiss is deep and exciting, he wasn’t sure, he is now. He wants more. He takes a step into her pressing her back while holding her against him. She was taught a Lady, schooled in dance she knows how to follow a man’s lead. He sways slightly right with his next step and she breaks the kiss for a moment to fit in a giggle. He holds her snug against him with his right and finds her right hand with his left and starts her into a slow waltz pressed far to close to be proper. He spins her twice, then he slows and dips her low, she laughing now. He pulls her back up to him, “I think it’s time to begin your first lesson wife.” 

“What lesson is that... husband?” She asks with a smug smile on her lips. 

“Pleasure of course. We may not have love but we can enjoy pretending we do,” he kisses her hard. He steps into her again, this time backing her into the stone wall. Once he’s steadied her against the wall he shifts his kiss to leave his mark along her long pale neck. She purrs for him like a kitten and he is sure Myranda has never shown her this. One of her hands is now in his hair and the other is gripping his tunic like he might pull away. 

It has been ages since he felt a woman. There is no violence here, not fight for dominance like with Cersei. He knows now she never loved him, not truly. Now feeling this lovely, receptive woman in his arms he wonders if he ever loved Cersei at all. 

He hears her breathy sigh and he wants more. He is hard now, he is ready but his little wolf needs more. He finds a tie on the side of her dress and pulls, it is not enough to undress her but yet... he moves his hand up to free a breast from her bodice. He brushes the nipple with his fingers and gets a new sound from her. A high keening noise that is followed with a rock of her hips, spurring him on. His mouth continues the slow descent to discover all her treasures. When his mouth closes over her nipple she lets out a gasp and covers her mouth. He smiles and as he runs the tip of his nose against the perfect peach tip he whispers to her. “I want to hear you wife, so do your Gods.” He returns his mouth to her nipple and continues to lap his tongue against it or suck it gently. 

She groans out with a deep, “Jaime,” as his teeth drag across her. 

He frees his left hand and begins to ruck her dress up catching the fabric with his gold hand. He finds a stocking covered thigh and runs his hand up until he feels bare skin. His hand continues up until he runs two fingers across her small clothes, pushing them aside he gently pets her heat and he feels her wet and ready. But this is his wife and she will get more. He lets go of her breast and stands up to kiss her lips quickly. She tries to deepen the kiss, to hold them together. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “I'll be right back.” 

“What?” She gasps out like some great ill deed has been done against her. 

He pulls down her small clothes as he sinks to his knees and the pouty whine turns into something deeper when his lips meet her core. 

“Oh Gods,” she calls out. 

He laps at her twice and can not help answering her, “yes tell them all about me.” 

One of her hands clamps down on his shoulder. Her skirts have become dislodged and are half covering him now. But he does not need to see her now, he can hear her just fine. She panting now, her breath catches as his left hand just barely enters her tight heat and he licks that little pearl of pleasure. 

“Jaime... oh Gods,” she cries out. 

Her knees start to buckle and he shifts, not sure he can hold her up with one hand. His right forearm presses again her hips, he moves his left and and she lets out a sad sigh. Then he presses his left hand against her other thigh and his lips close around that pearl and she shudders and moans. Calling out his name as her peak takes over. 

“Jaime, Jaime...” 

She tries to rock her hips again, but he holds her firm as her panting slows. He stands slowly and presses his body against hers. 

“That was entirely worth marrying you,” she groans out. Patting his cheek languidly. 

“Now for the maidenhead,” he brushes her hair out of her face making eye contact with her before he continues. She leans forward and kisses his lips, it is only then he feels his belt loosen and looks down at her hands unlacing his pants. 

“In a hurry?” He purrs but it ends with a groan when her hand wraps around his length. Her warm hands give him two gentle pulls, then the pad of her fingers lingering a touch just under the head. She reaches down and pulls her skirts up to her waist and looks around at the ground. 

“No wife, not on the ground here,” he says answering the question she did not ask. He bends and picks here up behind her thighs and she leans against the wall. He lines up with her and enters her slowly until fully seated inside her. Her legs wrap around him holding him tight, he sees her wince for a moment, then another breathy sigh escapes her. He starts to slowly thrust inside her, she is tight and wet, and oh so warm. “Sansa,” he whispers dropping his head to her shoulder. He will not last, he knows that. It has been too long. He quickens his pace and when her hand touches his cheek he raises his eyes to hers. 

“Jaime...” then she kisses him. 

His thrusts become frantic and he comes with a roar, muffled in her kiss. He can not help but continuing to rock his hips against her as he softens. 

“Sansa... wife,” he whispers to her. 

“Jaime, husband. For true.” She whispers back. 

He lowers her feet back to the ground and pulls out of her, tucking himself away. She reaches forward and laces up his pants, then buckles his belt. 

“Will my wife be dressing me often?” He says with a laugh. 

“Dressing or undressing whatever my Lord husband needs,” she smiles back and sways her hips. “I was taught to be a dutiful wife.” 

He kneels down, helping her into her small clothes. As he stands he laughs at her tucking her breast back into her dress and tying up the side. He picks up her cloak and spreads out near the wall. He sits and motions her over, “come here wife.” 

She sits between his legs and he wraps his cloak around them both. “You are warm,” he whispers in her ear pulling her closer. “Tell me how did this all come to be?” 

“Our marriage? Lovely story really, destined to become a song.” She sighs and leans back into him. “You saw me there in the snow and were instantly smitten by my charms.” 

“And you were struck dumb by my devastatingly good looks.” 

“Of course,” she says smiling. “How could I resist?” She takes his left arm and wraps it around her. 

“We married yesterday evening, in the Godswood. You immediately sent word to the Rock, but in wartime ravens are often lost. You had found me here, your dear sister-in-law, abandoned then widowed by her husband. Then you took me for your own. I was but a child in my first marriage and it was never consummated. I laid in your bed a maid and awoke your wife for true.” She turns to him and pecks a kiss to his jaw. 

"How do I explain trying to seduce Harry?” 

He hums. “You played it coy... hard to get?” He asks. 

“Oh, I teased him merciously,” she laughs. 

“Well, tell the truth... you were interested in marrying Harry. Until a more dashing suitor swept you off your feet.” He kisses her neck. “Harry merely did not realize your feelings for him cooled. 

“Tell me true. You do not mind being bound to a maimed knight?” 

“No, I do not mind.” She picks up his gold hand and kisses each knuckle. “I find a few scars can help you know what is really important. They are also a reminder of the past. Mistakes made...” she kisses the hand again. “Debts to be paid.” 

Her voice is cooler now, “one less hand to be struck with too,” she says it so simply, like it meant nothing. He almost misses the meaning until he hears the sad self-deprecating laugh that follows. 

He had thought they were speaking of his scars, now he is not so sure. He tips her chin up towards him and shifts to see her clearly. He studies her eyes. “Who hurt you?” he demands softly. 

“It is of no consequence now,” she evades. She drops his hand and straightens her skirts. 

“No lies,” he whispers. “Tell me,” he insists watching her eyes. There are tears there now, she does not let them fall. They make the blue of her eyes shimmer like the summer seas. 

“Who dared to touch my wife?” He brushes her hair behind her ear and rests his head against her temple. 

“I was not your wife....”

“Who? I will take their heads.” He shakes his at that and smirks devishily and kisses behind her ear. “No, I will take their hands.” 

“Do you want just those that left scars?” She straightens her shoulders and turns to face him sitting tall. Her hand caresses his cheek softly as if to soothe him, then her hand comes down to rest on his chest. “Should I also include those who, bruised me? Hit me with a sword? A fist? Ripped my clothes? Attempted rape? Should I just tell of the peasants? The common men? The knights? The Lords? The King? My list is long Ser. A long sad list from my past." 

He pulls her close, surrounds her. She buries her face in his chest. He kisses her hair and whispers to her, “you are a Lannister now, you are my wife. The debts owed to you will be paid.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So was the wedding scene too weird? Mostly cannon-y but I love the fic when a little sacrifice is made, blood seemed easy. I don’t know why, but the blood on their lips symbolic a little ruthless old god like?  
> Whatever... there’s smut too!  
> So tell me what you thought!


	3. The Jailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes milord. Then they walked together to Sky... I was afraid they meant to jump. But they just talked. Then the bastard-“ he looks up at Baliesh and sees his eyes narrow. “Then Alayne must have been cold, the man gave her his cloak. Did you know it has a lion on it?” The jailor says nervously. 
> 
> “He did what?” His head snapping up in alarm. 
> 
> “The cloak has a lion... gold lion on red.” The jailor repeats eyes wider. 
> 
> “I know that. What exactly did he do?” 
> 
> “The man gave her his cloak. Pulled it over her shoulders.” The jailor pauses, “then they kissed.”

Petyr was frustrated, this is not part of the plan. Not the plan at all. Jaime arriving and demanding Sansa... Sansa Stark. His Alayne. He shakes his head. Sometimes the pieces move out of turn in this game and he would make the most of this chaos. After all ‘chaos is a ladder’. 

“Tell me what happened. I want a report on the prisoners.” Petyr asks only partly listening, he knows how this will play out. 

“Milord... well, like you predicted they fought. They argued back and forth trading insults,” the jailor explains. 

“Yes, that is fine. Thank you. I knew they would be at each other’s throats.” He has managed to put such a huge wedge between the two families they will destroy each other and he will happily pick up the pieces. He cannot help smiling to himself. 

“Milord. That's not all. Then they laughed together... still trading insults.” 

He strokes his beard, “interesting.” 

“Milord, they spoke together, very close. Conspiring I would guess.” The jailor nods at him. 

“I do not pay you to think, only listen.” 

“Yes milord. Then they walked together to Sky... I was afraid they meant to jump. But they just talked. Then the bastard-“ he looks up at Baliesh and sees his eyes narrow. “Then Alayne must have been cold, the man gave her his cloak. Did you know it has a lion on it?” The jailor asks nervously. 

“He did what?” His head snapping up in alarm. 

“The cloak has a lion... gold lion on red.” The jailor repeats eyes wider. 

“I know that. What exactly did he do?” 

“The man gave her his cloak. Pulled it over her shoulders.” The jailor pauses, “then they kissed.” 

“What?” 

“A kiss milord.” 

“He kissed her hand?” 

“No, milord he kissed her lips. A lot. Then more. Then they danced around the cell. Then...” 

“They danced?” Petyr could hear the anger in his own voice. 

“And laughed,” the jailor said nervously. “Milord.”

“That’s all?” 

“No. Milord.” 

“What else?” Impatience was getting the best of him. What was Alayne playing? 

The jailor looks up at him nervously. 

“Well?” 

“They had relations, Milord.” The jailor confesses, bowing his head down. 

“What?” 

“They had marital relations, milord.” The jailor gestures obscenely with his hand and finger. 

“What? He raped her on the floor?” 

“No,” the jailor responds shaking his head. 

“Explain yourself.” 

“Not the floor, milord.” The jailor said. 

“What? Be clear man.” 

“They kissed.” 

“You already said that.” 

“They kissed a lot. Then he helped her with her skirts. She seemed very thankful. Called out to the Gods.” 

“Helped her with her skirts?” he furrows his eyebrows. 

“Yes milord. He was under her skirts, not sure what took so long, but she seemed very happy for his help.” The jailor shrugs. 

“That is all then.” Petyr says fuming. 

“No,” the jailor pauses. “Then she unlaced his breeches.” 

“She?” Petyr chokes out. 

“The bastar- Alayne,” the jailor looks away as he answers. “She unlaced him and umm... they had relations.”

“Be clear you idiot.” Petyr thinks to himself she would not have... would she? He taught her to be loyal... no that is not true. He pressured her and manipulated her to be loyal. He taught her to seize the upper hand, to climb chaos like a ladder. 

The jailor continues, “he fucked her against the wall. Then held her afterward. Huddled together like... like lovers.” 

“What. Did. You. Say.” He was furious, she used his own teachings against him. She will pay, she will rot in that damned cell. No, he smiles to himself, he would take her for himself now. Her maidenhead is broken, she knew that was where her value lay. If she wanted to be a whore... she would be his whore. Jaime could rot in the cell... forever. 

“She called him husband. They spoke of ravens to the Rock. Rallying Northmen, a coup in the Vale, the Riverlands. And... debts owed.” A little nervous tremor in the jailor’s voice when he asks, “he's not a Lannister, is he?” 

Petyr snaps his head to the jailor to give his orders when he feels a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. He slowly turns to see Lord Royce there. A cool smile on his face and the Lords Declarant line the hall. 

“I would like to speak to Ned’s girl now,” Lord Royce demands in a voice that would broker no argument. The jailor’s keys are already jangling in the lock. 

“Lord Royce-“ Petyr starts. 

“I want none of your opinions or lies Baliesh.” Royce rumbles. “I will speak with Ned’s daughter, Lady Sansa Stark... then we will consider your fate.” 

“Open the door,” Lord Royce orders and the jailor complies. “My Lady Stark I am so sorry for your mistreatment here, if I had realized you were Ned Stark’s daughter I would have come to your aid sooner.” 

“I understand Lord Royce,” she stands tall and straightens her skirts. She looks regal despite a night in a cell. She comes forward taking Royce’s hand in hers with a warm smile. “I thank you for the rescue.” She sends a dark glare at Petyr and he feels in his bones. 

“I must beg though, a bath and change before we meet with you and the Lords of the Vale.” 

“We?” Lord Royce asks. 

“My husband and I...” she pauses and holds out her hand out to Jaime. “We feel a bit rumpled for a conclave at this moment.” 

“Husband?” Lord Royce questions. 

Jaime offers her his right arm and she takes it his left hand holding hers in place. “Ours is a love story for the ages.” Sansa looks up a Jaime lovingly and Jaime looks back at her with adoration. Sansa turns back to Lord Royce, “I will tell you all about it after our bath. Come husband,” she smiles at Jaime sweetly. “Let’s get refreshed and then we will tell our tale.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So obviously this is mainly Petyrs perspective, but I like that Littlefinger is feeling like he’s losing control of Sansa.  
> My original opener was more political, with why everything happened, but then I decided to simplify.  
> Anyways like this I can do a bathtub scene next.  
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Gold to Fill the Cracks In Her Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is laughing too, she can feel the smile on his lips. Then the laughter dies. “Sansa? Sansa?” He repeats. 
> 
> Her back, she panics. He sees it now. The room seems to darken and she drops her head in shame. It’s lost now, he’ll see how broken she is and he will turn away. The affection they have found will wither and die. Who could love a woman so damaged? So scarred? Any moment now he will turn away and never look back. A tear rolls down her cheek. A tear mourning the life they could have had. 
> 
> “My Lady,” he whispers against her neck. She feels his light touch start on her shoulder and lightly he traces the scars across her back. “My wife.” Then she feels the warm touch of his lips against skin... once, twice, three times, then again and again. Tracing her scars with his lips. He pulls the dress away from her shoulders and it slips free and pools on the floor.

“Did you see the look on Littlefinger’s face,” he jokes. “He looked like he was passing a stone.” Jaime laughs as he’s closing the door. 

“I lied before,” her eyes were closed and she takes a deep breath. She wringing her hands in her dress. 

“What?” His voice sounding unsure. 

“I want our marriage based on honesty and trust. I lied...” she takes a step forward and raises her eyes to meet his. She bites her lip and begins to play with the buckles on his jerkin. Her smile turns into a smirk and her eyes warm as they meet his. He can’t help as his eyes dart down to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “You are much more handsome than Harry. Dashing even.” 

“Tricky, tricky wife.” He waggles his eyebrows at her. He pulls her right hand above her head and spins her where she stands. He pulls her close as if for a kiss and whispers across her lips, “it is not often a wife admits she is wrong so early in a marriage.” 

“Well I will strive to surprise my husband at every turn,” she says smartly. Her hands up to rest on his shoulders, fingers tickling the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Wife,” he whispers before he claims her lips in a searing kiss. 

“Well, well... Sansa,” Myranda purrs as if testing the name on her lips. Then she performs a deep curtsy, “it is nice to meet you Lord Lannister.” 

Sansa can feel the blush on her cheeks at being caught wrapped in Jaime’s arms. He holds her close and kisses her temple. “J-Jaime this is Lady Myranda Royce, a dear friend in of mine here in the Vale.” 

Sansa starts to put space between them but he holds her fast to his side. “Wife,” he whispers his breath warm on her ear. 

Sansa looks up into his eyes and can’t help but smile. She reaches up and pets the short beard covering his jaw and giggles at the growl he gives her. 

“Oh dear... you two are rather smitten aren’t you?” Myranda interrupting their game. “You my Lady nearly forgot I was here.” 

“Lady Royce,” Jaime drawls pouring on his Lannister charm. “I hear I owe you a thank you for a thorough education of my wife.” He watches a blush brighten sansa’s cheeks and she smacks his chest. 

Myranda smiles up at him provocatively, “oh it was my pleasure, hardly a chore.” Myranda then narrows her eyes at him and smiles knowingly, “but you already know that.” 

“I do,” he hums back. Nuzzling his nose into Sansa’s hair. 

“Well back to business,” Myranda claps her hands together twice. “A bath I heard was requested?” 

The summoned servents brought in a large copper tub, followed by buckets of steaming water. Then fragrant oils and dried flowers are added. 

“May I borrow your sweet wife for a moment? I promise to return her in one piece,” Myranda jokes. “Come her my dear Sansa I have something for you.” 

Sansa gives Jaime a quick kiss to his jaw and makes her way over to Myranda. She can feel the weight of his eyes as she moves and can’t help but sway her hips and peek over her shoulder. He’s watching her with a smug smile. 

“My darling girl... you’ve nabbed yourself a lion,” Myranda whispers in her ear. Myranda looks back eyeing Jaime up and down. “A fine man in fact. I must have every detail... but that will have to wait.” 

“Ser Lannister I will have to steal your wife away one night for pillow talk. I have heard stories of the lions... prowess and am quite intrigued.” 

Myranda turns back to Sansa, fanning her face. “That man could make a girl blush down to her knickers!” 

“Myranda,” Sansa scolds. 

“Well to buisness first,” Myranda starts. “The conclave will be with the evening meal, so you two will have... time,” raising her eyebrows suggestively. “I brought you a dress, Alayne’s dresses are not befitting your station.” Myranda motions to the covered garment on the hook. 

“Now,” Myranda whispers conspiring. “That man looks at you with hunger in his eyes. Remember men love to use their senses. To touch, to feel you touch him back. Do not be shy. Let your hands wander his body and encourage him to do the same. Tell him what you like, a good man will listen and a pleased wife is more enjoyable between the sheets. A satisfied husband with a puffed up ego is very receptive to a wife’s requests. Do not rule him, but let him know all the joys to be found with a happy wife.” Myranda kisses her on both cheeks. 

“You will be a wonderful wife... but do not forget to be a dutiful mistress and lover to him as well,” Myranda says. 

“You be good to my girl,” Myranda commands Jaime. 

Jaime nods, “that is my intention.” 

Myranda sweeps out the door with a swish of her skirts. As the door closes Sansa leans against it and looks toward Jaime. 

Jaime has moved over to the tub and drags his hand through the water. “Flowers?” He questions. 

“It’s a special wedding bouquet, a tradition in the Vale.” Sansa moves towards the tub, running her finger along the copper edge. “A blessing of sorts, said with flowers. See here the purple myrtle represents love inside of marriage. Lavender is for devotion, it also calms the mind and body. Violets are a prayer for loyalty and faithfulness. The sweet pea’s gentle scent is to inspire pleasure in marriage. Finally the red roses are for passionate love,” she finishes. 

He steps closer to her, “I think we should enjoy our bath before the water cools.” 

“Our bath?” She teases. 

“Yes, it would be poor form to not have are union be blessed by these waters... agree?” He pulls his hand from the water and touches her bottom lip leaving a small drop of water there. 

Her tongue darts forward to capture the drop. Her hand she places and his chest tracing patterns there. “I know this is new, but you are quite... dashing,” she says sweetly. 

He smiles at her compliment. “And you wife,” he lets his eyes draw languidly down her form and back up. “Are quite irresistible, my desire for you is no act.” 

“Maybe... we should talk less,” she purrs looking up at him through her lashes. He starts to answer when but when she moves to unbuckle his jerkin he pauses. He looks down, he watches her hands complete their task and she spreads the leather and pushes it over and off his shoulders and onto the floor. Her hands slide under his tunic and her hands slide along his sides before pulling the tunic over his head. 

“Where should we begin wife?” 

“Kisses of course...husband,” she smiles. 

His right arm wraps around her waist pulling her in against him. His left hand catches her jaw and guides her into his kiss. It is deep and satisfying but it ignites deeper hunger inside her. She lets her fingertips trace along his body, memorizing his form. His left hand cards into her hair, the slight tug pulls her chin up and bares her neck to him. He widens his tongue and gives a long slow lick up her neck. She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face or the soft groan. Then he begins to trail soft, wet kisses down her neck that send tingles down to her core. He shifts his body and his knee slides between her’s and each rock of her hips presses against him now. 

“Wife,” he whispers against her collar bone during his exploration of her. It elicits a groan from her. Both sensuous and joyous. His hand slides down, pulling her bodice to suck a bloom high on the curve of her breast. He spins her then right arm coming up to hold her just under her bust and his left hand attacks the ties holding her dress on. His kisses and licks her neck, never ceasing his warm attentions. She is completely lost in the sensations. 

With a boldness she laughs. This man, this husband is good to her. 

He is laughing too, she can feel the smile on his lips. Then the laughter dies. “Sansa? Sansa?” He repeats. 

Her back, she panics. He sees it now. The room seems to darken and she drops her head in shame. It’s lost now, he’ll see how broken she is and he will turn away. The affection they have found will wither and die. Who could love a woman so damaged? So scarred? Any moment now he will turn away and never look back. A tear rolls down her cheek. A tear mourning the life they could have had. 

“My Lady,” he whispers against her neck. She feels his light touch start on her shoulder and lightly he traces the scars across her back. “My wife.” Then she feels the warm touch of his lips against skin... once, twice, three times, then again and again. Tracing her scars with his lips. He pulls the dress away from her shoulders and it slips free and pools on the floor. 

He presses his chest up against her back, his arm pulling them together. He whispers in her ear, “my wife, her strength is tattooed across her back. The trials she has endured. She is steel. I shall buy you dresses, dresses with no backs. Every man will know... not of suffering, but of the strength of my wife. My wife the wolf. My wife, the mother of lions.” He presses a kiss to her shoulder then kisses her hair. 

She slowly turns to him then, the tears fresh on her cheeks. This cannot be real. She looks into his eyes and looks for the truth. “Husband?” 

“Wife,” he whispers back. He then brushes her tears away. He kisses her again slowly, now gently. Not like she is something fragile... but like she is something precious. 

She reaches toward him cradling his golden hand between them. She unfastens the buckles then unwraps the straps. It makes a dull thump as it falls onto the pile of clothes. She runs her hands down his forearm to where his wrist ends. Rotating it she presses a gentle kiss to his inner wrist. 

She feels a warmth growing inside her. This understanding... these scars, his and hers. This is the foundation their marriage will be built on. She cards her hands through his hair and he leans into her touch. She smiles up at him and pecks a kiss to his lips. “We should bathe before the water is cold... husband.” 

He nods and they finish undressing each other and stealing kisses. He enters the water first and then offers her his hand. They settle into the tub, her sitting between his knees and her back against his chest and his arms wrap around her. They rest there for some time in comfortable silence. 

“There are going to be flower petals everywhere,” he finally says. His raises left hand and he shows her it speckled with tiny flowers petals. “Are you going to want a husband so flowery... I’m going to smell like a garden.” He drops his hand back into the water. 

“Is that some great sacrifice?” She asks. She ducks her head under water. 

May I wash you Ser?” He gives her a disapproving look and raises his eyebrows asking for more. She bites her lip and his eyes immediately are drawn to it. “Husband... May I wash you?” 

He smiles at that. “My dear you can do anything you wish, but please wash away.” 

“It’s goat milk and lavender the soap,” she explains lathering her hands against the bar. “Excellent for your complexion.” 

“I do worry so about my complexion you know,” he laughs. “All the fair maidens do.” 

He shifts his legs and she adjusts to sitting astride his legs and facing him. She leans forward as if to kiss him and whispers in his ear, “I see no maidens now,” she whispers. 

“I suppose not,” he counters. 

Her hands come up to his neck and begin a slow massage, leaving a soapy trail in their wake. His eyes close and he leans back against the side of the tub. She feels his left hand come to hip, his fingers gently rubbing at the small of her back. She moves her hands down, following the line of muscles along his neck to his shoulders and pausing to work out any knots she finds. Then her hands find his chest mapping out every inch of skin there. 

“I think you’ll need to stand husband. The soap is hardly effective under the water,” and she pats his wet chest. 

They stand together and the sight of her wet and dripping husband intensifies a longing in her. She attempts to focus on her task lathering her hands with soap, but the smug grin on his face tells her he knows. She takes his left arm first starting near his shoulder and trailing down to his hand. When she finishes and starts on his other arm giving it the same attentions. He bows his head slightly and kisses her temple. 

“Turn please,” she requests and he obeys. She guides her soapy hands along the muscles of his back pulling a groan from him. She feels a blush on her cheeks but she focuses, letting her hands slide across his sides and around his hips. Before she takes a deep breath and washing over his arse. She gives it a light smack, “turn around again... husband.” 

“Cheeky you are,” he scoffs. “My turn?” He asks.

“No,” she hums now washing his chest and stomach. Then she reaches down and rubs soapy hands across his thighs. 

“You missed a spot,” he smiles and licks his lips. 

“Oh this?” She questions feeling bold in the moment. Letting her hands follow the trail of hair from his belly button down. Her hands slide further to cup his balls and washing them between her hands enjoying the look of surprise on his face. 

“Sansa,” he gasps out absently. 

Her hand move down his cock and with short gentle pulls she washes the length of him adding a slow pull here and there until he groans. “All done,” she says and grabs the pitcher, fills it and dumps it over his chest in one quick movement. 

“Oh... your hair,” she says. “I nearly forgot.” She looks up at him smiling, “I think you should kneel... husband.” 

His smile is smug, “yes wife.” He slowly lowers himself to his knees in the water never breaking eyes contact. His face is level with her belly. He leans forward licking the pale skin there, then he drags his teeth across it before ending with a kiss. His left hand slides round her hip and onto her bum pulling her flush with him. His cheek rest against her belly. 

She pours a pitcher of water over his head and starts to lather his hair carding her hands through it with her nails gently scratching his scalp. She moves her hands down to the nape of his neck and massaging her way back up. 

He purrs at her attentions and pecks a wet kiss to her belly. “Does this mean I get to wash my wife now?” Placing a kiss at the curve of her waist. 

She looks at him gently as she fills the pitcher with water then pours it over his head rinsing the soap away. He shakes his head letting water droplets fly. 

“No, I will wash myself.” She sees him start to object when she continues, “but you can watch.” 

His eyes seem to glow green at that. He places a kiss to her stomach above her bellybutton and one more to her hip. He leans back against the tub and resting his arms on the edge. He motions to her with his left hand, “on with the show.” 

She blushes at that. She felt too scandalized, but this may be worse. She feels entirely on display. She has pushes this all too far. She starts to cover herself with her hands, her confidence fading. 

“Did I scare my Little wolf,” he taunts. 

She meets his gaze and raises her chin in defiance. He will not win. She smiles at him and bites her lip. She fills the pitcher and slowly pours it over her hair. She reaches for the soap and starts working it into her hair. Her arms are up with her hands in her hair leaving her body entirely on display for her husband. His eyes fall away from her own and assess her body with hunger. She thinks she sees his breathing increase. She lathers the hair well attempting to work out some of the dark dye that lingers. She pours the pitcher over her hair again and notices the water darken. 

Her husband licks his lips still watching her intently. 

She lathers the soap in her hand and sets the bar down. She moves to her neck then her shoulders and down her arms washing along the lines of her body. Focusing on her task and keeping her breath even. She reaches for the soap again adding more suds and bubbles to her hands. She runs her hands across her collar bones and under the curve of her breasts not quite touching it. 

She raises her eyes to look at Jaime as her hands continue absently. His eyes are fixed on the motion of her hands on her breasts. His chin tips up slightly like a nod of approval while his lips part and his tongue comes out to wet them. There is hunger in his eyes and she can help but imagine his hands replacing hers. It’s not proper to imagine that... but... it is her husband. Though she should not be so wanton, but what had Myranda said... be his mistress. Bastard strong she thinks to herself. Be his wife, his mistress and his lover. She takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh as her fingers brushes against her nipple and she feels it come to a stiff peak. 

“Enjoying the view... Husband?” She says in a teasing voice. 

“The... scenery is second to none,” he answers back voice low and dark. “But I fear you have missed a spot that needs some attention.” He moves towards her and sloshes the water over the edge of the tub. He quickly presses up to her side, his hand under her chin to guide her into a soft kiss. “You look delicious,” he purrs against her lips. 

He tips her head away from him exposing her neck. Then she feels his tongue, wide and warm drag up her neck to just below her ear. It sends a tingle through her body and biting her lip does little to suppress the sound of a sigh as it escapes he lips. He moves behind her his right arm wrapping around her belly and pulling her against his. She rocks her hips back towards him and feels his cock pressing against her bum. His lips find her neck and he is licking and sucking kisses that make her lean her weight into him. His left hand slides down and just teasing the underside of her breast. His hand moves higher following the round curve there, the back again but as his thumb moves across her nipple, his calloused hands causing a wave of pleasure to ripple through her core. She lets out a soft moan as she canters her hips back in a steady rhythm, soon he joins her movement. His hand lightly pulls her nipple twice causing her to gasp. 

He hums into her ear, “you say the sweetest things, my Lady. Let’s see if I can make you sing.” 

His left hand leaves her breast, she lets out a small whine of protest. His hand captures her left and he laces together their fingers, his in top of hers. He moves her hand up to her own breast and guides her hand in lavishing it with wonderful teases of light touch, squeezes and pulls of her nipple. He frees his hand and it travels down and pauses just touching her curls. 

“Lovely wife,” he purrs into her ear. 

She is keening now and her hips buck forward against his hand before pressing back against his cock. His cock is now between her thighs and each rock of her hips causes it to press against her entrance. He groans in response fingers sliding down, “Jaime,” she calls out as his fingers graze her wet heat. His fingertips just entering her and the palm of his hand to press firmly against her pearl every time her hips buck forward. He licks and sucks her neck, her own fingers pinch her nipple gently, the rock of his hips falls in rhythm with hers. She’s trapped between so many wonderful sensations and feels a warmth and need inside her building and waiting to emerge. 

“Jaime, Jaime,” she moans as she tries to rock harder forward into his hand, back onto his cock and absorb the sensation of his mouth on her neck. 

“Come for me, my wolf. My wife.” 

“Oh,” she calls out with a moan. Her body contracts nearly doubling her over. Her hips continue to canter forward and back increasing her pleasure with every push and pull. “Jaime, Jaime... Jaime,” she howls as her body starts to melt. Now her movements follow his and he is all that keeps her from sinking back into the water. 

“My, my, my... you are a wolf,” his quietly rumbles in her ear. He steps out of the tub, she can’t help but sway slightly on her feet... she feels so languid. Not a moment later he has swept her up bridal style and carries her to bed. He lays her across the blankets and climbs over her and asks, “ready for me?” 

“Um... I think I’m ready for anything,” she hums back blue eyes meeting green. 

“Those are bold words,” he jokes. 

“I trust you,” she answers back smiling. Her hand comes up to brush across his beard. “Now do your duty... husband.” 

He shakes his head, “as the Lady commands.” 

His hips come to rest in the cradle of her thighs but his mouth closes around her nipple causing her to groan. His hips shift against her and she can feel his cock against her entrance. She bites her lip in anticipation, but a firm suck from his mouth pulling a moan from her and then another as in the next moment he is fully seated inside her with his own groan. 

“Fucking hell, this feels fantastic,” his voice broken and low. 

He thrusts into her and she groans in return. Two thrusts later she tilts her hips and rocks her hips following his tempo. She feels so much but wants more, she wants him closer. She raises her heels to his hips and the groan that escapes her surprises her. It is so good, but more. She wants more. She wraps her long legs around his hips crossing them behind him and squeezes him in closer. Her left hand finds his lower back and she grips him tightly urging him on, feeling her nails press into his skin. 

“Oh Gods, Sansa.” He gasps out. 

“Yes Jaime, harder.” She replies. Her breasts are bouncing with the strength of each thrust. Her right hand finds the nape of his neck pulling him into a messy kiss. 

His hips are moving faster now, harder. His tongue and lips consume hers with a kiss. He is everywhere, inside and out. She feels that wonderful sensation building and building in her belly, every thrust pushing her closer. Then she topples over the edge with a high pitched moan. Each of his thrusts linger just a moment with him deeply inside her. Her walls tighten around his cock he groans, he almost sounds in pain. She tugs his hair and he roars with his head buried at her neck. His body continues to pound into her but it gradually slows until it stops. He kisses her lips gently and shifts as if to move away. 

“No... please stay.” She whispers out looking into his eyes. “Please stay right her just a few more moments,” she begs. Squeezing her legs to keep him close. 

He smiles back at her kissing her gently on the lips and answering, “I can’t think of one place I’d rather be.” Then he brushes his nose against hers. He pecks kisses against her lips as their bodies relax. 

She feels his cock slide out her body. He unwraps her legs from around him. She starts to protest when he shifts lying on his right side pressing himself against her hip. Then he pulls both her legs to rest over his thigh and hip raising her hips off the bed. He moves his hand down to cover her entrance holding his spend inside her. 

“Give me a daughter,” he says quietly kissing her shoulder. “Give me a son. Give us a real family.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bear to write. Half done for over a week and just couldn’t finish it. The end still?!? Not sure it right but there are more chapters to go. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I will have a picset on my tumblr @redbirdblackdog, someday I may learn to embed picsets into the chapter.


	5. The Coup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So I heard you broke her in for me Lannister." 
> 
> Jaime bristles at the insult to his wife. He takes a breath and slowly looks up at the man speaking. He wonders if this man knows it is not wise to pull a lions tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So I heard you broke her in for me Lannister." 

Jaime bristles at the insult to his wife. He takes a breath and slowly looks up at the man speaking. He wonders if this man knows it is not wise to pull a lions tail. 

He had been leaning up against the wall in the hall just outside their chamber door waiting for his wife to emerge. He had been unceremoniously kicked out of the chambers by the lady's maid for being a hindrance. He could hardly be blamed. He enjoyed kissing his wife and preferred to remove her clothes rather than to watch her dress. 

The blonde man laughs at his own joke but the two knights beside him do not. They look weary of him... they should be. It's good they are not all stupid. 

The blonde leans in closer to Jaime like he is conspiring. "When you are done with her let me have a go... I bet the bastard squeals when she is fucked." 

Jaime pushes off the wall and stalks forward. He doesn't fail to notice the blonde man take a few steps back. "Excuse me," Jaime growls and takes a long assessing look at the man. Jaime stands tall and proud as he turns on his most charming smile, he wants to see how far this arse will go. "Who are you exactly? Which knight is it you squire? He may need to box your ears, teach you a lesson on the way to speak of a Lady." 

"I am Ser Harrold Hardying," the man replies sounding insulted. Now straightening his own posture. 

The two knights must be brighter then 'ol Harry the arse here, they distance themselves a bit. "I see. I cannot say I know much of you. Are you a hedge knight or do have some scrap of land somewhere to call your home?" Jaime's smile turns smug as only a gold-shitting Lannister could muster.

"I am no hedge knight or landed knight, I am heir to the Vale." The man answers back sharply. 

Jaime cocks his head and smiles, oh he has him now. "Strange, I was under the impression that Robin Arryn, son of Lord Jon Arryn was heir to the Vale." 

"Well... yes, of course," the arse sputtered. 

"Do you wish the boy harm?" Jaime asked. 

"No," the arse sputters. "Of course I do not."

"Good, good. I was taught the men of the Vale of Arryn value honor above all else? Glad to see my education was sound. Then you have land, a keep somewhere?" Jaime enjoys watching the arse fumble for a response. "What is the name of your keep? Maybe I have heard of it." 

"I... a... have no keep, not yet." 

"Oh, your older brother keeping it warm for you? Do you plot his death as well?" Jaime asks now, he probably shouldn't tease the boy. It is Sansa's fault really. This man is not nearly as handsome as her husband. Appears to be a half-wit too. And they had called him stupid.

The arse shakes his head and furrows his brows. "No... I am the last Hardying." 

"Ahh, so you are a hedge knight. Roaming the countryside completing valent deeds? Saving damsels in distress and all. Living off the land until some great deed carries enough favor for a Lord to grant you a tower and land of your own." Jaime is desperately trying to sound sincere, he is not sure he is succeeding. "I remember well the campaign against the Kingswood Brotherhood where I was knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne. Real battle is what makes real knights."

"No, none of that. I said I am not a hedge knight." the arse replies shaking his head. 

"Then what are you?" He already knows the answer, he wants to hear from the arse himself. 

"I am ward to Lady Waynwood." 

He cannot hold back the laugh as he nods to the arse, "does she employ a wetnurse for you too?" 

The arse looks up at him scowling. 

Jaime holds up his hands like a mock surrender. "Ah, a poor joke at your expense. How insensitive of me. We can joke though... correct? We are brothers in knighthood. Tell me the story of your valor leading to the your knighthood. Battling in some fierce hill tribe skirmish I assume." Jaime looks at him lazily. "You have my complete attention."

"I was dubbed by Lord Yohn Royce after winning the championship at the squires melee at the Runestone." The arse smiles at Jaime confidently. 

"That is all. That was your great _knightly _deed? Interesting." Jaime looks at him with a confused look and one of the onlooking knights snickers.__

____

__

Jaime gives the arse a confident smile. He starts moving slowly but surely, stalking toward the arse. "You are young knight yet... just blooming into his duty. You don't want a wife yet, sow your oats and all. You are lucky I took the lovely Sansa off your hands. She was in need of a man." Jaime continues to move forward as he steps quickly but deftly gaining ground. The arse takes a reflexive step backwards.

"Sansa needs a man with confidence and strength that comes from battle experience. A man with significant power in the realm." Jaime holds up his hands as to demonstrate the obvious choice. 

The arse is now looking up at him and is nearly backed against the wall. "She needs a man with the means to support her in her endeavors and aspirations. Someone that can help her reclaim Winterfell. Someone to bring peace to the North and the Riverlands." 

"Even simple things. I will pamper her." Jaime holds up his gold hand as if to make the point. "I will drape in gold as a _princess _should be. Now tell me Ser are you fit to care for a princess?"__

____

____

All expression falls from the arse's face. "Princess? Sansa?" He questions his voice is shaky now. "Alayne is Sansa Stark?" 

Jaime takes one more step forward and the arse takes one back in retreat, his back now hitting the wall. Jaime smiles, the arse has no where left to run. He lowers his voice so the arse is the only one that can hear. "Can you believe some here treated Princess Sansa poorly? Treated her a bastard? As a lesser person?" Jaime scoffs, watching the color drain out of the arse's face. "How could anyone mistake a princess for Littlefinger's bastard daughter? Who could be that stupid?"

"I-I- a..." the arse starts. 

Jaime raises his voice so the other knights may hear now. "It is just as well, no man came to know her better. I'm the jealous sort, possessive even," Jaime says it with a cool nonchalance he doesn't feel. He reaches his left hand up patting the young knight on the cheek and anchoring his gold hand against the wall by the arse's head. He lowers his tone to a growl "I do not know that I could bear another man knowing my wife. The crime for touching my wife, well... let us just leave it at the punishment would be severe." Jaime locks eyes with the arse, green eyes blazing into pale blue. "Do you know anyone who mistreated my wife?" Jaime pokes his finger into the man's chest. "Do you?"

"Wife?" The arse asks just above a whisper. 

"Yes, my wife. She is now Lady Lannister, wife of the Golden Lion, Warden of the West and a Princess of the North in her own right." He is still pressing his finger hard against the arse's chest. This boy should know how to show respect, give it when it is due. He feels his control slipping this may not end well. He would love to break the arse's nose. Jaime stares down at him and the arse has the decency to drop his eyes. 

Lucky for the arse Jaime hears the door open and before he turns to see. He assesses the arse, he is slack-jawed and nervous. Jaime grabs the man around his throat and pushes him against the wall and growls quietly in his ear. "I know who you are. I am watching you. If you ever speak of my wife in such a way again I will be very wrought. I can be _unreasonable _when I'm upset."__

____

____

"Darling," Sansa says. "Is something amiss?" 

"No my love," he answers with a drawl, but she will see the ferocity in his eyes. "I was just sharing some wisdom with these knights." Jaime pats the arse on the chest and moves toward Sansa. 

"Of course my love. I am sure they will take your words to heart." Sansa replies innocently. Her eyes skim over the arse and then the other two knights who quietly lingered. 

"Ser Raymond and Ser Wallace, good evening." She gives them a shallow curtsy. She turns to Jaime, "they were always such gentleman. They treated me kindly. An honor to their house." It does not go unnoticed she ignores the arse. 

Jaime sees the two knights smile and offer an appropriate bow. One of them pulls the arse along with them as they escape down the hall.

He turns to her fully and quickly moves to her. "You my dear look ravishing."

She looks into his eyes and touches her hand to his cheek. "Is all really ok?" 

"Hmm, yes the arse just needed a reminder on how to speak about a woman." He leans in and pecks her lips. 

"I'll assume he had a crass comment about me?" She asks. 

He touches her waist with his left hand and drags it across the sheer fabric as he circles her. She is wrapped in a pale cream gown accented with gold lace throughout. She looks as though she has dozens of gold necklaces draped over her nearly covering her skin completely neck to breast. He comes around to her front, he lets his hand slide down to her bum and pulls her sharply against him. 

He purrs in her ear, "you my dear look too delicious for politics. We should bar ourselves in our room, I am sure I can think of something more enjoyable than arguing with old men." He squeezes her bum as he kisses behind her ear. He whispers to her, "I will strip you of all but your jewels and worship every inch of you." 

She shakes her head and attempts to step away from him. "We must go, our freedom depends on it."

"It is not as dire as all that," he whispers against her neck kissing her there. "Adam should be at the gates by tomorrow and two of my men are here participating in the melee. Another few ambling about with the crowds." 

She pulls her head back and clamps her hand over his mouth. "You have men in the Vale? You have men here, now?" 

He licks her hand and raises his eyebrows in response. As she removes her hand he kisses it. "I am a seasoned commander you think I would come here alone? Without a plan. Even I am not that arrogant." 

"I guess I had not considered... you were never in any real danger were you? Even in the cell. I was though, did I pressure you into this arrangement?" She asks it with such sincerity, concerned she may have trapped him. 

He smiles and shrugs, "you made a rather compelling argument. I could hardly resist rescuing the fair maiden." 

"Jaime be serious," she looks scandalized now. 

"I still think I negotiated well," he meets her eyes with a smug smile. He kisses her lips gently, "I got more than I anticipated. I think I got the superior terms in fact. Admit it, all you got was me and the West... I got a wolf in my bed." He kisses her deeply again, pulling her flush against him. She starts to melt at his attentions and she softly sighs. 

"Excuse me," a voice comes from his periphery. "Lord and Lady Lannister you two are incorrigible." Lady Myranda scolds. 

Sansa whines as they part. He chuckles to himself. 

"I have blamed your tardiness on your newly wed status, but the Lords Declarent will not wait forever." Miranda steps on closer to Sansa... smoothing out her dress. 

"Thank you Miranda," Sansa offers. 

"Tis nothing," Miranda answers, then she hums while brushing Sansa's hair back into place. "The red hair and the gold suits you. It is very becoming. Very Lannister. Come now," she scolds, "before we embarrass ourselves."

_____________

They pauses at the door, he can hear raised voices already. 

"Let us discuss the real issue. Lords may bed whores, they do not take them to wife." Some man through the door declares.

"My daughter is not a whore."

A man scoffs, "you _Littlefinger _are a liar. The only thing we know for sure is Alayne is not your daughter. You could have easily dressed up some pretty whore in an attempt to infiltrate this court."__

____

____

"That is preposterous," another Lord voices." 

"She is to marry Ser Harrold Hardying," that voice belongs to Littlefinger. "Annul this unsanctioned marriage to this Westerman and do what is right." 

"What is right? You speak of what is right? I then will state the hard facts," the first man is speaking again. "Lord Robin will not last the year. Ser Harrold is the heir apparent and the Vale will not allow him to be wed to a used whore." 

Sansa is flushed, how dare they speak of his wife in such a way. Jaime pushes through the doors without announcement and Sansa follows closely behind. The Lords look shocked at their sudden entrance. 

Jaime is in a fury. He is sure his eyes burn like wildfire. Sansa wraps her arm around his and holds his hand in both of hers. She squeezes his hand in quiet support. He meets her eyes, when she nods he takes a breath and tries to gentle his approach. Let their plan do its work. 

He knocks his golden hand on the table as if he does not already have their attention. "I am happy to announce an alliance my Lords. I have taken Princess Sansa to wed." He smiles and kisses her temple in a simple sign of affection. "We are here now to accept your congratulations." 

There is a rumble around the room. He watches to see which Lord leans into another to whisper and who accepts it easily. 

"Who are you claiming to be... Ser?" A man he doesn't know asks. "There are so many pretenders as of late." 

Jaime looks to Sansa. 

"Gerold Grafton," she whispers back to him. "He and Benedar Belmore have been helping Littlefinger manage the grain stores. They have been hoarding it in an attempt to drastically raise prices when other stores run out."

"Lord Grafton, I am Jaime of house Lannister, son of Tywin and Warden of the West." Jaime locks eyes with the man daring him to challenge him further. 

Lord Yohn Royce is the first to rise. He examines Sansa's face closely and then nods to her. "I can attest this is Sansa Stark, daughter of Ned and Catlyn Stark. I welcome you to the Vale princess, he gives a deep bow. "I apologize for not recognizing you earlier. I welcome the happy couple into marriage and hope this alliance will be strong and fruitful." He pauses and looks about the room. Then he reaches for Sansa's hand. Speaking softly, "I knew your father well, I am sorry for your loss.

Sansa nods her head in acknowledgment.

One of the other Lords scoffs. "So she is either Alayne the bastard daughter of Littlefinger and whore of the Vale or Sansa Stark whore to the imp." The man shakes his head. "I don't know which is worse." 

Jaime has had enough, he slams his gold hand on the table and glares at the Lords at the table. "You question her maidenhead? You question my wife,” his tone turns to a growl. "Her previous marriage was forced upon her and remained uncomsumated. I assure you _Ser _my wife was maido."__

____

____

"If she was impure lord, she is not fit to be a Lords wife." 

He smiles, but it is feral. “I just attested she was a maiden on our wedding day. Is my word not enough? Although even if she was not I would not care. Sansa is my wife and will be all my days."

"But she’s a bastard." 

"A bastard? A whore? Both are lies." He laughs, "she is Princess Sansa Stark? Even if she was a bastard, she would still be mine. She has won my heart and my devotion. I have sworn a vow and it will not be forsaken. She is mine at the cost of all others. That Ser, is Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell... now the Lady Sansa Lannister." 

“You cannot be sure of that.” 

“I am without a doubt," Jaime states firmly."

"But lord she is not fit." 

”Say it again whoever you are and you may anger me. Who are you to judge. Do you dare tell a lion who is his mate.” The other man shrinks at his accusation. “No I thought not." 

"There are rumors she was a whore." 

"Rumors I am sure from men she refused to bed. Hardly reliable," Jaime scoffs. 

"We cannot be sure," the Lord argues. 

Jaime raises his voice, "why do you need to be sure? Do not tell me she has less value because a cock has been in her.” Then he smiles with Lannister confidence. “If anything she is more valuable now. She is now the most valuable woman in all of Westeros. The heir to Casterly Rock lives there, in my wife. She is not only a wolf, she is the mother of lions. The whole of the West will defend her to the last man. The North will rise to her to see her well. The Riverlands will come to her aide. Our children will be of the Sunset Sea and Winter itself. Decendents of Kings of the Rock and Kings of Winter. They will have no equals." 

"I am done with explanations and accusations. A legion from the West are entering the Vale to escort us home. I had hoped to ask permission but I no longer care to. A western envoy will arrive tomorrow, I will give you my leave until then. After that the Vale will ally with the West or against them. Jaime pauses, "the choice is yours my Lords." 

The Vale Lords start to rumble in conversation with each other. Jaime turns to leave, he lost his temper and failed to follow Sansa's plan. She holds his hand tight. She meets his eyes and bids him to wait. 

_________________

"Lords I will speak a warning before I exit." Sansa pauses allowing the Lords to quiet. "Lord Baelish is not to be trusted. I am ashamed to have hidden my true identity from you. I should have never trusted Lord Baelish and I advise you to disregard his council as well. He will tarnish then destroy the honor of the Vale if he continues to weild power here." 

"Lord Royce I believe I can depend on you to be an advocate to building a friendship between the Vale and the Westerlands." 

Yohn Royce nods his head, "my Lady you and your husband have a friend in me. You will be welcome in the Runestone if you wish."

Lord Royce then clears his throat. "I agree Lord Baelish is a blight on the honor of the Vale," he growls. "He should be striped of his title and banished from the Vale."

She hasn't been booed out of the room yet so she continues. "Lord Grafton and Lord Belmore I am glad you are here. The Vale is proud that you two have done an incredible job at storing the harvest for the winter to ensure there is enough for the entire Vale at a reasonable cost." Sansa glances over the Littlefinger and watches his face pale. Did he forget how many of his schemes she was a witness to? She continues in a innocent tone. "I know Lord Baelish suggested to refuse to sell or disperse the grain until the people were starving and would pay any price, but that would be dishonorable. I know that is beneath men like you."

The two Lords look her in shock and then bow their heads to her. Lord Belmore speaks, "you are correct my Lady. We should never have listened to Littlefinger, but as Lord of the Vale I suppose we feared to displease him." 

Sansa nods back at his honest answer. "I will ask for your support in removing Lord Baelish from power in the Vale. 

Lord Gilwood lashes out pointing an accusatory finger at Littlefinger, "I knew you were hoarding food. You are scum."

Littlefinger looks flustered and tries to explain. "We were just consolidating the food to ensure rations could be maintained."

"Lies, you are a cheat and a scoundrel." the Lord Belmore accuses. "My Lady I have judged you harshly and I apologize. I will support you and the Lords Declarent in removing Littlefinger from power." He swats Lord Grafton on the arm and moves out of the room. 

Lord Grafton rises, "I am sorry for my lack of decorum earlier. I will support you and the Lords of the Vale in the removal of Littlefinger." He nods to Jaime too, "I am honor bound to follow my Lord and his allies, but the West will not find an enemy in me or my men." 

"Ser Lothor Brune," Sansa says sweetly. "I know Lord Baelish has secured your service but I have come to depend on your presence. I request you to enter into my service, if that could be agreeable. You may find Lord Baelish lacking sufficient funds soon enough. Employing you may be... beyond his means." 

Ser Brune nods his head to her, "I would be proud to serve the Lady." 

Ser Corbray speaks up then, pushing past two scowling Lords. "I too grow weary of the Vale and Littlefinger's schemes. I have heard stories of the Westmans prowess in battle. I am ready for a new adventure far from the Vale. I have to make a name for myself now that I am not my brother's heir." He pauses to scowl at Littlefinger. "I ask to enter the Lady's service as well. I assure you I look good in both gray and gold" he gives both a sly smile.

She nods to him, "Ser Corbray I'd be honored." He is not her first choice. Corbray is arrogant. But he feels overlooked by his brother and betrayed by Littlefinger. Corbray will be loyal as long as they treat him well. There will be positions with power available for knights who are loyal, he will respond well to rewards. Anyways who could ever hope to out bid a Lannister?

Mychal Redfort approaches her. "The house Redfort will support you in removing Littlefinger from the Vale." He takes a deep breath and looks back to her. "The Red Wedding was a horrible tragedy and the most dishonorable thing I can imagine. My house was linked to the Boltons through marriage then blood. When Domeric died that blood died too. I will pledge myself if you chose to take back your Winterfell. The only way to clean the stain of the Boltons is to cut it out." His face is somber but he offers a quick nod and he exits the hall. 

"Lord Gilwood, may I speak to you for a moment?" Sansa pats Jamie's hand and moves toward the Lord. She lowers her voice so only Lord Gilwood can hear her. "I have something concerning for you." She looks down for a moment, "its about your father so please hear me out. Your father was murdered." 

"My Lady, those are serious accusations," he replies sternly.

She takes a deep breath and continues. "I am not done." 

Lord Gilwood eyes widen. "Coninue please." 

"I overheard a conversation. You will be accused of the death of your father. If you are found guilty you will be executed. If you are found to be innocent you will be killed in some accident. Your brother Harlan conspired with Littlefinger to kill your father, you were supposed to die as well but you have been lucky. Harlan wants to be Lord and Littlefinger wants his vote. Use caution in your day Lord and search for the truth." 

"Do you have any proof?" The Lord questions. 

"I do not. Littlefinger did not think you could be bought so he is betting on your brother. If you look you can find the truth in it." 

"It explains some things," the Lord mutters almost to himself. "I had concerns that fathers death seemed suspect." He then shakes his head as if clearing his mind. "Thank you my Lady." 

Then the Lord raises his voice, "Lord Royce and Lady Sansa I will support the removal of Littlefinger from the Vale." He then turns and smiles, "my only requests is that he resides in the sky cells or be under constant guard until his fate is decided." 

Lord Royce nods to one of the guards, "please see Littlefinger to his rooms and ensure he stays there." 

The guard nods and pulls Littlefinger from his chair. 

"I demand a trial," Littlefinger says his voice cracking. 

"Oh you will have one," Royce answers. "In time."

The Lords all begin to move from the hall. Many stop to wish her well wishes on her marriage and offer her support. A few that knew her father when he was a ward also offer their condolences. What surprises her is the number of Lords who pause to shake her husband's hand. Westerners are not often well received in the Vale, not to mention Lannisters. 

The last few Lords exit the hall leaving them alone. She looks to him across the table. He smikes back smugly. 

"That went better then expected," she offers. 

He hums back and starts stalking towards her. 

"You didn't follow the plan," she scolds. 

"Should I be punished?" He drawls, moving closer with each step. 

She smiles and bites her lip. "No, you improvised, quite impressive." 

"I can get us out of the Vale, but you my dear," he pauses as he reaches her and pulls her flush against him. "You put Littlefinger in a cage. Some of those Noble Vale Lords even agreed to fight with me when we take back Winterfell." 

"You want Winterfell?" She asks, was this all to gain another stronghold? Another man wanting her to take her title from her. Did she judge him wrong? 

"God's no," Jaime answers. He strokes her cheek. "I'd rather have you naked and warm in the West then freezing bundled in furs in the North. Although I am sure we could figure out a way to stay warm, if you want Winterfell." 

"Winterfell?" She brings both hands up to cup his face. "If I want it? You would fight for Winterfell?" 

"I would fight the stranger himself for you," he says against her lips. Then he kisses her gently over and over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Politics, oh dear what a tangled web we weave.  
> Thanks for reading.


	6. Hope in Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if we are caught?" She asks. Her head drops back as he continues kissing along her neck and chest. Gods he is good at this. 
> 
> "I imagine they will be quite jealous," she swears she can feel a smug smile on his lips.
> 
> She giggles, "you husband are scoundrel."
> 
> "I just told them my heir was on the way, we must make haste. Do you want to make me a liar?" He teases. 
> 
> "Best get going then," she whispers. He makes her feel bold and light, maybe even happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His kisses turn from warm to searing. They burn down her body through to her core. His hands follow her curves and she feels herself melt into his touch. 

"Maybe we should we retire to our room," she pants out breathlessly. 

"Why?" He asks without a care and sucks a bloom high on her neck. 

Did she miss read this? She's panting and flushed. Then he backs her up until her bum hits the table. His body presses against hers. "We can not, not here," she gasps. 

"We can." He hums against her neck. He dips down and lifts her up to sit in the table. He spreads her legs and positions himself in between. His legs tangle in her skirts. "You forget," he says in between kisses. "They think me a rogue. That I seduced the poor Lady from her suitor... I must maintain my reputation. 

"What if we are caught?" She asks. Her head drops back as he continues kissing along her neck and chest. Gods she thinks, he is good at this. 

"I imagine they will be quite jealous," she swears she can feel a smug smile on his lips.

She giggles, "you husband are scoundrel."

"I just told them my heir was on the way, we must make haste. Do you want to make me a liar?" He teases. 

"Best get going then," she whispers. He makes her feel bold and light, maybe even happy.

"Look how beautiful you are." He slows his touch and his kisses. His hand cards through her hair, "the flush of your cheeks, the smile on your lips, the desire in your eyes. Even the gold you are draped in can not compare, you are by far more precious than any jewel I have seen." 

He loosens the front of her dress and nuzzles in between her breasts. His hand comes up her leg, over he knee and up further still to trace the edge where her stockings end and bare skin begins. 

Her hands find his hair and she holds him close to her breast. She wants to tear the dress open, wants to be bare before him. She sways to the side trying to get his lips where she wants it most. She lets out a squeak when his hand grips her bum. 

There is a noise at the door and she freezes. Oh gods, he rocks his hips into hers and she bites back a moan. 

"Oh dear, my Lord I am-" 

Jaime lifts his head from her chest. "It is fine." Then with a smirk directed at her he continues, "we were just leaving." 

"Very well Ser," the attendant replies looking at the ground. 

Jaime presses her front against him and kisses her deeply as he pulls his hand from under her skirts and helps her from the table. "Come along wife enough of your delays," he teases. 

She narrows her eyes at him and he just laughs in return.. She can't help but hold one hand to her bodice to ensure she does not spill out of it. 

"Dinner is in an hour," the man offers as they depart. 

Jaime hums, "we will strive to be punctual." 

Jaime pulls her down the hallway past the first few doors, then he picks her up and carries her in his arms through the halls. 

"I can walk... husband." She scolds pecking a kiss to his jaw. 

"I can pee standing up," he jokes. "Anything else obvious to say?"

They make it to their room only passing a maid and a squire. When he sets her down he kicks the door shut behind him. His smile is feral. 

"Jaime?" She asks nervously. He looks set to devour her. 

"Wife," he counters as he stalks toward her. He unhooks his cloak and lets it fall to the floor. He makes quick work of her dress and undergarments. Her hands seem to take a life of their own as they remove his clothes for him. He pulls her close and kisses her with a new fire. She feels consumed by him. 

As he laps at her neck he is forcing her to take backward steps. Steps away from the bed. He lifts her then, holding her to him. Her legs cling to him and her breasts press into his chest. She feels cold against her bum as he sets her down on the vanity. She looks to him confused. 

"The bed?" She asks. 

"Trust me," he whispers against her lips. His hips meet hers and she groans and shifts forward. He ducks his head and starts to suck on her nipple. As he teeth graze it she gasps, one hand finds his shoulder and the other grips his hair tight. 

She starts to pant, her hips seek to meet his. "Jaime, Jaime," she gasps as he sucks harder. Then it is gone. She starts to look for him when she feels his soft and warm tongue her center. She moans in return. He makes quick work of her. He laps and licks, but when sucks her in that special place she shudders and falls apart. 

"Jaime... oh gods," calls out gripping the table edge tight. 

"You say the nicest things," he drawls. 

His lips meet hers and now she wants to savor him. He tastes different, it is her on his tongue. Her hips rock towards him without a thought. She feels him at her entrance and oh she feels full. His gold hand slides low on her back his left cups the back of her head. 

"One more," he whispers. "I want you to call out my name one more time.

Like summoned it happens. A warmth and a bliss starts from her center and conquers her body. "Jaime... Jaime," she moans against his neck. 

His pace increases. He pulls her hips closer. She may fall off the table, she does not care. 

"Sansa, wife," he growls with each thrust. Then he buries his face into her neck and lets out a primal sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan. 

She cups his jaw in her hands. His eyes are languid and his movements are slow. She starts to pepper quick kisses across his face, he seems to be able to meet every third one with his lips. 

"Wife," he smiles and brushes his nose against hers. 

"Husband," she answers with a smile. 

They end up back on the bed. He looks like he is starting to doze, but she feels more alert than before.

"Can I look at you?" Her eyes pass down his body, "can I touch you?" 

"Yes," he whispers back. "Please." 

Her eyes raise to meet his. Her hand comes up to stroke his jaw, freshly shaved earlier. "Your skin is smooth now, very soft. I like the rough of your beard too, but I may prefer this." She shifts and places two soft kisses on his jaw. He still looks likely to pass into sleep at any moment. 

She draws her fingertips along the muscles of his neck slowly then down to his shoulder. She leans into him, "does it feel good when I kiss you here?" She begin the offer wet kisses down his neck. 

"Yes, divine even." He rumbles back. 

She begins to kiss his neck like she does his lips. She touches her lips to his neck again. This time though she allows her tongue to taste him. She adjusts and offers a light suck to the tender skin there like she would his lip and he purrs at the attention. 

"Darling wolf," he starts. "If you kiss me like that, feel free to kiss me anywhere you please." 

She thinks of all the places he has kissed her already. She feels equal parts scadalized and excited by the idea of repaying each kiss in kind. She lets her hand fall to his chest to begin exploring and follows it with her lips. Her hand brushes his nipple. Its flat and firm, so different from her own, she wonders if he would enjoy a kiss there as much as she does. She feels her cheeks pink, it may be wanton but it is her husband too. She darts he tongue out and with just the tip of her tongue she licks it. Then she follows it with a wet kiss. With that she hears him purr again. Is it the lion in him that reacts so or does she purr under his attentions as well? 

She lifts her head and looks down his frame. Her hand is pale against the warm gold of his skin. Her curves are soft and smooth, is body is firm and muscled. Beautiful in its own way. They are very different but similar too. Her eyes assess his naked form. Her eyes fall onto his manhood and she is a little confused. 

"It looks different?" She asked with a confused look on her face. She runs her hand down the plane of his stomach as her hand nears his... well his manhood shifts. Her eyes widen and she looks back up to his eyes. 

"My cock changes as you excite me." He smiles and she blushes. "It is halfway ready now, but if you continue as you have I will be ready soon. 

"Ready?" She questions. She feels silly for not understanding, but her husband assured her he will teach her about bed play. 

He runs his hand over her shoulder down her ribs and over her hip. Her smile softens as he teases his hand back up the same path his hand cup her breast his thumb just grazing her nipple. "Does you body not change, not throb with want as I excite you? It's the same with me." 

"Yes, I suppose it does," she answers back. "So when Myranda said to to touch... it. She, she meant to make it ready? I thought it was just to please a man?" 

"It is both my dear," his smile widens as he speaks. He takes her right hand in his left and slowly brings it down to his manhood. He does it slowly, she suspects she could tear her hand away if she wished. She doesn't though, he pleasured her so, she would like to learn his body too. She tries not to blush but fails again. It, it feels firm against her hand but not as hard and stiff as it was when she touched it in the cell. The skin is so soft like silk and its warm, its so warm. 

She gently runs her fingertips up and down its length. She notices the golden hair of his chest narrows into a narrow path of hair that darkens as it thickens around his... it. 

"May I show you?" He asks as his hand covers hers again. 

She nods.

He guides her fingers to encircle it. Then her to pump it gently, then more firmly. 

"Just like that," he sighs. "You are an excellent student. Now you could spend me entirely that way or just to get my cock ready." 

She notices it change. Where it was pliable, it is now stiff and unyielding. Should she continue? He said he can spend this way. "Does it like kisses too?" She asks and is instantly more embarrassed. 

"Yes," he answers but his voice sounds caught between cautious and excited. "But you don't..." 

His voice stops short as she presses a light kiss to the tip. She does it again and again, then she hears him take in a sharp breath. 

"You... you can kiss it like you do my lips, like you would my tongue," he whispers like he's out of breath. "Keep you hand moving too."

He seems to like it. Her hand is moving in a gentle rhythm. Like she kisses his lips, his tongue he said. She licks the tip, like she does to his lips. He sighs and sounds happy so she does it again. His tongue, he mentioned to kiss it like she does his tongue. He groans everytime she sucks his tongue. So she does that she wraps her lips around the tip and sucks gently at first. He lets out a moan and his hips rock in time with her. She sucks just a little harder. The sound he makes then sounds almost painful. She pauses.

"Don't stop... please," he pleads. 

She smiles and resumes her attention. His hips rock now with every move she makes. Looks up at him, his hands are gripped tight on the sheets. His eyes meet hers but they are bright as wildfire, then they are pressed shut again. He is mumbling words of praise that she can't understand. She smiles around... it, she feels powerful. She's quieted the arrogant lion. She hums against him pleased with herself. 

"Yes, Sansa.... no." He stutters out. He shifts, his hips buck too. 

She starts to pull away... there is something warm and thick and salty in her mouth and spilled onto her chin. Her nose wrinkles and she scowls looking around for a place to spit. To spit his... spend? She goes to cover her mouth and, and then she spits in her hand trying her best to wipe it off her chin. 

"Sansa, here." He sits up shifting closer and offers her a cloth. "I should have warned you." 

"I did not expect that," she says shaking her head. "It surprised me. Is that what comes out of... it? When you are inside me?" 

"Yes. Sansa?" He laughs. "Can you not say cock?" 

"I couldn't," she replies eyes wide. 

He pulls her into his chest. "I think you can. In fact I think you did in that cell." 

She shakes her head. "I did not. That was part of the game, Alayne. I would never." 

He narrows his eyes at her explanation. "How are you going to ask, when you are in need of your husband? In need of his cock." He teases with a smirk on his lips. 

"I could not," she sputters. "I will wait." 

He kisses her forehead and chuckles. "That is no fun. I would love for my wife to seduce me with crass words of her desire for me. Say it just once," he lifts her chin to meet his eyes. "Say it my wolf, say cock." 

She shakes her head. 

He tilts his chin and raises his eyebrows in challenge. 

"Fine," she groans. She bites her lip then whispers... "cock." 

He leans back with her against the sheets letting her head pillow on his chest. She feels his fingers run through her hair. "My beautiful wife, with her filthy mouth." 

She scoffs and slaps his chest. "It is your fault, you made me!" 

"Don't blame your filthy mouth on me," he laughs. 

"You are a pest, a menace," she argues. 

"But handsome," he offers. 

"I suppose," she offers back. 

She scoots closer to him, presses into his side. She can hear each breath and the thump of his heart. He kisses her hair and continue to run his fingers through it. They lay there quietly. She starts to trace her name on his chest... Sansa Stark, no it's Sansa Lannister now.

Her mind strays from moment. 

"Did he ever have a chance?" She whispers. "Robb, when they declared him King in the North they signed his death warrant as well. I don't think anything could have saved him." She shakes her head. 

She feels Jaime take a deep breath, maybe to speak but she continues. "Nothing would have saved him from the crown, from Joffrey." She pauses and looks up into his eyes. "Nothing could have saved him from the Lannisters." She is not accusing, but stating a fact. 

He shivers. "You are right," he says softly and his hand stills. "The Young Wolf likely never had a chance. He was a fine fighter and a good tactician. He had a strong presence. As leader he lacked experience. He should have brokered for piece time and time again. It could have happened too, until they executed your father. When they cast that stone war was unavoidable." 

He shifts his side slightly and cups her jaw. "I am sorry for the death of your family. Even before I knew you it was ill done. The Red Wedding, my father played a part, I am sure of it. I am ashamed that my family hurt you so. For the part I played." 

"My father should have never come south," she sighs sadly. "Starks do not fair well in the South." 

"I was there... I was there the day Aerys executed your grandfather and uncle." His eyes glaze like he is far away. "I knew before then the King was mad, but that was when I knew there was no hope. Aerys would bring the world to burn before he saw reason." 

"Are the stories true? I have heard terrible stories of the atrocities of the Mad King." She asks with a whisper. 

"They are true... and more. Wrongs that could never be righted." He pauses and she wraps he arm around him holding him closer. "He felt he had no equal, that he alone was a dragon among sheep. His to devour or torture, to murder or maim. Even the Lords held no sway, if they questioned him they were enemies. He had no friends... only foes.

"It is hard to have hope in a world ruled by a tyrant." He says absently.

"We can though," it is just a whisper from her lips. "This right here, this fragile bond between us... we can ensure it never happens again. The Starks and Lannisters are no longer enemies. Future generations will be siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. We will raise our sons to be wise and brave. Our daughters steadfast and loyal. They will marry into the great houses. Our children will infuse our blood into the Seven Kingdoms and it will be stronger for it." 

She strokes a hand into his hair. "We will remember... we will not make the same mistakes." She gives a quiet laugh then, "we will make new mistakes... but we will make them together." 

He looks into her eyes there is pain, but also forgiveness and hope. So much hope. She smiles even though sadness lingers in her eyes. "You will be my true knight, my husband and in time maybe... my love." 

"Love," he smiles at the words. "I would like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are moving forward. I'm still hashing out where I'm headed. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	7. Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin glares at him and answers. "Will I grow bigger and stronger than your husband?" The boy neary spits the reply, stabbing at his meat. It's rare to see such venom in someone so young, maybe there is hope for the boy yet. 
> 
> Jaime leans in to whisper in Sansa's ear. "Such hate the boy feels for me is impressive. Did I spurn more than one suitor of yours?" 
> 
> Sansa stifles a smile. "Most definately Lord Robin," she squeezes Jamie's leg. "More handsome too I'm sure." 
> 
> He turns to her with mock offense. "I'm hurt my wife."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime

They were late for dinner of course. Newlywed and all, he wonders how long that excuse will work in his favor. In fact, now he wonders why are they even here? This was not his court or hers. He could be happily eating his meal with his wife in their chamber right this minute. Seven hells, he could be eating his dinner off his wife right now. 

"How long do we have to stay?" He whispers to her. He runs his fingers down her side, "I am ready for dessert." 

"It will not be much longer now. Patience," she answers. "The power had shifted in the Vale now with Little Finger imprisoned. We must be seen giving support for our allies." 

"I can think of more enjoyable things we could be doing." He waggles his eyebrows at her but she stops his hand's progress up her thigh. 

"Soon husband, soon." 

The boy was glaring at him now, the little Lord. If you could kill with a look Jaime would be dead on his feet. Sweet Robin, bless the man who had to work him in to a man. 

"Robin," Sansa scolds sweetly. "You need to eat some of your meat, not just desserts. You need good food to grow big and strong." 

Robin glares at him and answers. "Will I grow bigger and stronger than your husband?" The boy neary spits the reply, stabbing at his meat. It's rare to see such venom in someone so young, maybe there is hope for the boy yet. 

Jaime leans in to whisper in Sansa's ear. "Such hate the boy feels for me is impressive. Did I spurn more than one suitor of yours?" 

Sansa stifles a smile. "Most definately Lord Robin," she squeezes Jamie's leg. "More handsome too I'm sure." 

He turns to her with mock offense. "I'm hurt my wife." 

She swats his leg. She leans and whispers in his ear, "I will tell our sons that too." 

"Well that is just the truth. With my good looks and your cheekbones they will put even their old father to shame." 

"She was to be my bride," Robin mumbles. 

"Funny... I've heard that before," Jaime jests under his breath. 

Sansa swats his leg again. "You are terrible." 

"Lord Robin maybe we can make you a match with a Lady of the West," Jaime offers. 

She swats Jaime again. 

"The West," Jaime answers himself and teasing his wife with a look. "Many a lovely Lady in the West. A lovely girl with golden hair and eyes as blue as the sea. Maybe a beauty with Sable hair and emerald eyes." 

"Is there a beauty as great as Sansa," he asks with snark. "As pretty as my Alayne?" He pouts. 

He tried he really did, thank the gods she's good at this. Jaime rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the rest of the conversation.

When the dinner is finally over he pulls her out of the room. "That little Lord is more hostile than most war councils," he grumbles. His hand falls to her hip and he leans in for a deep kiss. 

"He grew fond of me," she responds. He shifts and starts pecking kisses along her neck. "When his mother died he attached himself to me. I am not his mother but I was able to comfort him some. Are you jealous Ser?" 

He spins her in place and wraps his arms around her pressing his chest against her back. "I believe I am the one with you in my arms. I can offer you many things that the little Lord can not." He starts to kiss her neck and his hand slides up to cover her breast. 

"Jaime we should go to our room," she sighs. 

He groans against her neck, "but it is so far away." 

She answers back, "it is up the stairs and two doors away." 

"And down this hall," he whines. "It will take minutes to get there." 

"But I could be wearing absolutely nothing in our room," she answers back coyly. 

"My wanton wife makes an excellent point," he hums back. "Let's go," as he drags her down the hall.

...................

Addam

"Addam, it's early." Jaime groans, "is the sun even up yet? I didn't expect you till this evening." 

"You know what my father says, if you are on time you are already late." Addam answers. 

Jaime greets him casually enough but there is a woman in his bed. She is hiding with the covers up over her head, but obvious none the less. 

"Addam," Jaime commands as he motions for him to turn. He does of course but he is curious to see the woman that wormed he way into Jaime's bed. Jaime is not quick to push her away. There are whispers and a giggle before he hears what he expects is their shift out of bed. He hears her sigh and can't resist to turn his head halfway. In his periphery he can see Jaime holding her close for a deep kiss before turning her and giving her a light swat to move her along. 

"Addam," Jaime requests. Calling his attention, still buckling his belt and only half dressed. 

Addam glances at the retreating woman who seems eager to escape in her state of undress, only a thin robe covering her form. She looks over her shoulder briefly before escaping from the bedchamber. They meet eyes for only a moment before she retreats to the antechamber. She is lovely he thinks, beautiful even. She looks shy, demure. The type of lady to be caught in such a tryst he wouldn't expect to blush so prettily. 

He turns slowly to Jaime, "well she is pretty. Never knew you to be one to be seduced into a tumble by a pretty face." He rolls his eyes, "your father will not be pleased." 

"I think you are wrong," Jaime smiles back. Pulling on his tunic. 

He rubs his temples in frustration. "You can't just tumble some girl. You are a Lannister. You are the Lannister now. The Lion of the Rock. Fuck, Jaime what do you think you are doing? You can't go leaving bastards in the Vale when you do not even have an heir yet." 

"Addam, there will not be any bastards I assure you." 

"Jaime I have never known you to be so reckless with your cock."

"Addam, I married her." 

Addam lifts his eyes to meet Jaime's with confusion in his eyes. "What?"

"I married her." 

"I heard that part." He wants to pull out his hair. "Of all the stupid, reckless things you have ever done." He scoffs, "your father may demand my head for this... and hers." 

Jaime's eyes narrow and his voice is firm, "we will not be seperated." As sure as that it is done. Jaime is an easy friend, slow to anger. It's why he is such a good swordsman, he's not afraid to give up ground. When he plants his feet though, he can not be moved. He is the same with his words. 

Addam groans and rubs his temples. Maybe he seduced a Lord's daughter, high enough to be considered. "Who is she?" 

"Well when I arrived she was introduced as Alayne Stone, Little Finger's natural daughter."

"What? Fucking hells. Have you completely lost your mind? I mean really?" Addam huffs. "This is even worse your father..."

Jaime shakes his head and smiles. "He will love her."

Addam takes a deep breath, when did he become a nurse maid? 

"That Addam," he pauses with a smirk pointing toward to side door. "That is Sansa Stark."

"What?" He absently turns to the closed door. 

"I suppose she is Sansa Lannister now," his smile fills with that Lannister pride. 

"Seven hells Jaime," Addam mutters. "I leave you alone four days, four fucking days. You find Sansa Stark. Then you marry her?" He looks around dramatically in a jape, "any children I don't know about?" 

"Maybe," Jaime replies smiling. 

Adam narrows his eyes examining Jaime's face. "You rouge." He shakes his head and sighs. "You look happy, you do. You like her." 

"I do," Jaime answers quickly. 

"And Tyrion? You do remember she is his wife?" It's time to face hard truths. 

Jaime glares daggers at him and his voice serious. "Tyrion is dead. There is no longer a Tyrion Lannister. If he still breathes he is a walking corpse. I freed him and in return he shot my father. He betrayed our family. He lost any right he had to the life he was given. He can make his own way... if he can survive long without Lannister gold lining his pockets. As for my wife... their marriage was unconsumated, widowed or annulled it does not matter. Regardless it's not uncommon for a man to accept a brothers widowed wife. Keep the Lady in the family. She is mine though, mine alone."

Addam answers, "but Tyrion..."

"Tyrion is dead. Dead to me. Dead to the Lannisters. Dead to the West. If he lives he is a traitor at best. Sansa is mine and I am hers. We will not be separated." He growls. 

There is a knock on the door. Jaime smiles and nods at him. "Here she is, remember she is mine." 

The Lady enters and starts towards them. 

"I want to leave for the West in the morning," Jamie's voice low commanding. "I want you to send a raven to the Rock announcing my marriage. Do not address it to my father in case the raven is lost. I didn't trust to send the message from here. Half the kingdom likely knows now of our marriage, this will be a declaration that we have a new Lady of the West." 

"Will she demand you take back Winterfell?" He asks. 

"No," Jaime replies. "She wants it, we will take it for her. We will make a real plan once we are out of these walls. Little Finger may have lost his grip on the Vale but I fear these walls still have ears." 

"Am I interuping?" Lady Sansa asks. 

"No my wolf," Jaime replies pulling her into his side. "This is Addam Marbrand, we have been close as long as I can remember." Jaime takes her hand and kisses it, "I trust him with my life and yours." 

He takes his prompt, "a pleasure to meet you Lady Sansa... Lady Lannister." 

She blushes, "thank you Ser Marbrand. Welcome to the Vale. She turns her attention to Jaime, "will you both accompany me to break our fast?" 

"Of course," they both answer. Jaime narrows his eyes at his quick response. 

She smiles at Jaimes antics. She just might be the right match for the cocky lion. Jaime has taken her in his left arm so Addam offers his right. 

"Two knights as escort," she laughs and he can see how she charmed Jaime. "I will be the envy of the Vale." 

"Oh, I like you," he flirts. "Beautiful and charming... Jaime never stood a chance." 

"Oh, you are trouble I can tell," she replies. "I shall introduce you to Myranda you two could run a muck together." 

"Yes," Jaime interjects. His smile turns challenging and nudges Sansa, "I have heard she is quite the kissing partner." 

Sansa's mouth drops open and she swats him, "Jaime!" 

"Lead the way my Lady." 

....................

Jaime

"Sansa," he calls out gently. They split this morning, him to train and Sansa to meet with Lord Royce and then a visit to the Godswood. The air is heavy here, it has no great tree but he feels his wife's gods here all the same. He turns to the right and follows the narrow path that loops the garden, he passes one bench, then another. "Sansa," he calls again. He expected her at the first bench as he passes the third his pulse quickens. Where is she? He follows the curve of the path and he sees the last bench... its empty as well. "Sansa," he whispers and his heart skips a beat. 

He rushes along the path and finds Ser Corbrey jesting with Addam. 

"Where is she?" He is growling now. "Where is my wife." 

Corbrey's face drops and he rushes into the tiny godswood. "She was here," the man huffs out in disbelief. "I walked her to this bench, she sat down and thanked me." 

Jaime growls at him and grabs the open neck of his chest plate. "Where is she now?" He demands. 

Corbrey looks confused, not hearing Jaime's question. "She was here, she was safe. She asked for a moment to speak with her gods." The man shakes his head and finally notices Jaime. "This godswood is small, I was so close." 

Addam removes his glove and feels the bench. "It is warm, she can not be gone long." 

Jaime pushes the knight away and Corbrey falters back a few steps. He focuses on Addam. "What do you see?" 

Addam responds without looking up. "These footprints are hers," he points to some small narrow prints in the snow. "These yours, they pause then follow the path. These are mine and Corbrey's." 

"Back up you dunce," Addam shouts at the knight. 

"Addam... tell me," Jaime pleads. 

"Her tracks don't move, she sat here and stayed. She did not walk away. These prints," he points to large footprints in the snow. "They come from that high wall." 

"Hill tribes," Corbrey mutters and spits.

"Not so fast," Addam replies. "the tracks leads back that way, but they are not heavier, it is a ruse. He was not carrying our Lady that way. These boots are good, heavy but trained steps. This was no clansmen who lucked upon the Lady. This was planned." 

"Stolen," Jaime breathes out the words Addam does not say. Planned. Large prints. Heavy steps. "Where is Lothor Brune? Where is Little Finger?" Jaime hisses. 

"My Lord," Addam offers. "They have not been gone long. Look there... the snow looks smooth but its disturbed. He covered his tracks, but not as well as he thinks." 

Addam's confidence does little to calm Jaime. He squeezes his fist tight and he commands through clinched teeth. "Addam find my wife, scour the castle if you must. Take all the men you need." 

"I will find her," Addam assures. "And you?" 

"I will find Little Finger," Jaime growls. "I will strangle the truth out of him." 

His last command is quiet, he is seething. "I want Sansa back, I want my wife. Find her... find her now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. It will be ok. The angst is short lived I promise.  
> Thanks for reading.


	8. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where is Sansa?" Jaime growls through gritted teeth. "Where is my wife?" 
> 
> Littlefinger looks up at him from where he is caught against the wall. His right eye twitches, his cheek has already begining to darken with a bruise. His nose is broken and two drops of blood fall onto Jaime's wrist. Jaime feels a mad smile tug at his lips. He wants to see more, more blood. Littlefinger's teeth are stained red now but he is scrambling for control. He manages a threat, "you will never see her again. Tragic really."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime

He is striding down the hall, he can hear the heavy steps of the Lannister soldiers who keep pace with him. It gives little comfort though. His mind is swimming. No he is drowning. He feels the loss of her, he feels an ache. He barely had her and she is gone. 

"No," he mumbles just above a whisper. He will have her back. He will have her safe if he has to pull the mountain down to do it. He grips the pommel of his sword tighter and hastens his steps. He waves his hand at the gaurds at the door, "get them out if my way." The Lannister soldiers make quick work of the Vale men guarding the door. They will have sore heads but no worse for it. 

He pauses and takes a deep breath to calm the rage coursing through his body. Littlefinger will have a plan, a ploy to keep the upper hand. He has to keep his head. He will give anything to have her back, anything. He will do anything. The lion inside him roars for his mate. This may not end well. 

He pulls open the door and stalks into the room. His eyes lock with Littlefinger. He shows the man his palm, a sign that he bares no weapon. A attempt to talk not fight. 

"What do I owe the pleasure Ser Jaime?" The bastard looks suprised to see him, but smug as always. 

That smile breaks the little resolve Jaime has. He pulls Littlefinger from his chair and slams him into the far wall. "Where is she?" He says it just above a whisper but he is vibrating with restraint. 

Littlefinger blinks twice, looking a little shaken. 

"Where is Sansa?" Jaime repeats with a low growl. Littlefinger's eyes go wide, maybe he understands the stakes of this altercation. Jaime bangs his golden hand against the wall, "where is my wife?" 

Littlefinger lowers his voice to a mocking tone, "you stole her from me, now you lost her. Perfect." 

Jaime feels rage boiling inside of him. He tries to steady his thoughts. 

"I hope you find her broken and bleeding. I hope you find her..." 

He does not see it coming. Jaime's left fist lands a strike to his face. Jaime watches as Littlefinger's knees buckle, but he holds him up by his collar. 

"Where is Sansa?" Jaime growls through gritted teeth. "Where is my wife?" 

Littlefinger looks up at him from where he is caught against the wall. His right eye twitches, his cheek has already begining to darken with a bruise. His nose is broken and two drops of blood fall onto Jaime's wrist. Jaime feels a mad smile tug at his lips. He wants to see more, more blood. Littlefinger's teeth are stained red now but he is scrambling for control. He manages a threat, "you will never see her again. Tragic really." 

Jaime moves quickly then. He shoves him against the wall again. His gold hand presses hard on his chest causing him to wince in pain. He gasps as Jaime's left hand closes around his throat. It's then he watches Littlefinger's eyes dart around the room. He notices the soldiers in the room, it's then he realizes he is surrounded by lions. 

Jaime take a deep breath in as he squeezes harder stealing the mans breath. The threat he whispers is so calm it sends a shiver down his spine. 

"Every hurt, every... disservice done to my wife will be paid back to you ten-fold. After, I will extract from you whatever payment I deserve. A Lannister pays his debts but we also always collect what is due." 

Jaime pauses, looking over the man critically. He did not try to barter, he did not ransome her. Jaime's looks into his eyes his voice ice cold, "you do not have her. This isn't your game." Jaime leans back shaking his head. He opens his hand and Littlefinger falls to the floor gasping. He leaves the man panting on his hands and knees. 

Jaime turns and starts to pace. A dry laugh escapes. "I will pay anything to have her back. Anything. It was not you though. For all the lies you has ever spun, you don't have her." 

Jaime continues to pace, "if not you who?" There are no demands, why would someone take her? Do they want to hurt him? Hurt her? Do they just want her? He shuffles through suspects in his head. Lothor Brune? Without Littlefinger he would have no motive, no reason. Ser Corbrey was genuinely surprised at her disappearance, even ashamed. He was not the culprit. Sweet Robin? No. Even if the boy wanted her, his men would defer to the Lords Declarent before obeying an order to abduct her. Who else has the will to risk the wrath of a Lannister? 

"Harry," Jaime whispers. He's fumbling for any sense of reason in this madness. Could the arse have done this? 

"I could help you," Littlefinger offers. 

Jaime turns to him, he'd forgotten he was there. "You cannot help me. You can't even help yourself." 

"Ser Jaime," his name echos in his head. Breaking through the fog of pain threatening to bury him. 

"Ser Jaime... we found her..." 

His breath stutters and his head snaps up to attention. "Sansa?" He mumbles. 

The soldier nods and turns to lead the way, "this way." 

........

He hears Addam's voice before he rounds the last corner and slows his steps.

"Stop," Addam commands the soldiers around him. "No closer, do not underestimate him." He raises his left hand to calm the large man but does not remove his right from his swords hilt. "Hound," he starts. 

"The Hound is dead," the big man growls. Pulling Sansa closer and raising his sword. The large man holds her close. 

Addam lowers his voice in a stern command, "Clegane... that is our Lord's wife. She is our Lady of Lannister... let her go." 

"I will not let you hurt her," he growls his reply. "I will not let anyone hurt her." He lashes out with his sword. His eyes look untamed... wild. 

"I am a Lannister man, I will protect the Lady with my life." Addam speaks calmly as he takes a step forward. He moves slow like approaching a wild beast.

"As would I," he growls back. "Come any closer and it will end in blood." Clegane moves to stand between Sansa and the soldiers. 

"Sandor," Sansa speaks quietly but sternly. Jaime watches her hand slowly raise to rest on his chest. "Addam will not hurt me, you both want me safe." Her face raises and she meets his eyes. "I don't want you hurt, I want no blood shed here for me."

"Little Bird," he hears Sandor whisper. 

"No," she speaks plainly. "I'm the last wolf of my house, I'm stronger than I was. Let me go, let me give you a mercy." 

Clegane's focus is on Sansa, but a strike now is risky. The large man could easily turn on his Lady. Jaime steps forward quietly... watching. 

"Let me go," she whispers. "I am safe... let me go," she says gently. She moves her hand to where his holds her wrist. Her pale fingers loosen his grip and she pulls from him. Instead of escaping she raises her hand to his cheek. "Thank you Sandor," she whispers. Clegane drops to his knees as if his strength has failed him, his sword dropping to the ground. Sansa leans forward and presses a short kiss to his forehead. 

"Adam," she says. 

She reaches her hand out and Addam takes it with his left pulling her behind him. "My Lady," he offers still watching Clegane closely. 

"It's too late," the big man growls as his head sags forward. "Kill me now, make it quick. I have no desire to freeze my cock off at the Wall." 

"I promised him mercy, he means me no harm," she insists. "He protected me bofore, the best he could in Kings Landing. He does still." She speaks her words to Addam but Jaime hears them clearly.

She glows in the torchlight and at first he's afraid he sees her ghost. "Sansa," he whipsers out like a prayer. Her eyes find his and her smile warms the room. He moves toward her quickly but he doesn't believe it until he feels her in his arms. He buries his face in her hair. He breathes her in. "I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you." He squeezes her so tight.

"Jaime, my lion. I am here, I am safe." She starts pecking kisses to his jaw. "He didn't hurt me... I'm safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to split it up into two chapters. I'm a little nervous about this one. I had to change POV multiple times and cut out a decent section I may add as flashback or explanation later. I hope its clear. Sansa is safe again with Jaime. There is more to come and I'm working in things from a few comments I couldn't resist. I admit there will be plot holes but when someone suggests a explanation for something or some detail I missed i can't help but fill my gaps.  
> Thanks for reading. This will in not be Sansan.


	9. Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, please. Please do not hurt him." She brushes her hand into his hair and he leans into her touch making her smile. She owes him the truth. "I... I have to tell you about me and Sandor. I did not tell you before..."
> 
> Jaime's brows cinch into a scowl... "tell me what? What did you not tell me?" His hands fall to her waist. 
> 
> "Well it didn't seem to matter, he was dead." She takes a cleansing breath, "but... he is not." 
> 
> "Sansa what is it," his eyes meet hers in confusion. 
> 
> "Please don't hurt him. Please," she begs. 
> 
> "Sansa?" he pulls away from her and takes half a step back. His eyes widen in alarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime pulls her into the closest room. His hand passes over her body protectively looking for an sign of injury. He cups her face. "You are well?" 

"I am," She answers back gently pecking a kiss to the corner of his lips. 

"I thought I lost you," he whispers. He presses his lips to hers gently once, then again before pulling her into a tight embrace. "I thought I lost you," he whispers into her ear. 

"I am well. I'm safe. I'm with you," she reassures him. "He would never hurt me," she comforts. Her hand carding through his hair to soothe him. 

"He could have hurt you, killed you. The Hound was always loyal to my family. They say he is mad now. I didn't believe it. I would have never have thought he would betray me." He mutters to himself. 

"He is still loyal," she soothes softly. 

He scoffs, "why did he take you than? To collect a ransom? A debt he feels I owe him? My father owes? Some wrong I am unaware of?" Jaime's voice turns rough and he growls, "I will have him strung up. I'll have him quartered. How dare he try to hurt you. I would never have thought he would be so stupid." 

"No, please. Please do not hurt him." She brushes her hand into his hair and he leans into her touch making her smile. She owes him the truth. "I... I have to tell you about me and Sandor. I didn't tell you before..."

Jaime's brows cinch into a scowl... "tell me what? What didn't you tell me?" His hands fall to her waist. 

"Well it didn't seem to matter, he was dead." She takes a cleansing breath, "but... he's not." 

"Sansa what is it," his eyes meet hers in confusion. 

"Please don't hurt him. Please," she begs. 

"Sansa?" he pulls away from her and takes half a step back. His eyes widen in alarm. 

"No, no." She steps into him left hand on his chest and her right cups his jaw. He is stiff under her touch like preparing for a blow. "Jaime, listen... it will change nothing." She kisses his chin, she's not prepared if refuses her kiss. 

"Sandor was a friend of sorts, my only friend. He kept me safe in Kings Landing, as often as he could. He saved me more than once, I wouldn't be alive without him. He is crass and rough. But he never hurt me, he would never hurt me." 

"He came for me that night, the night the Blackwater burned. He was drunk on fear and wine. I was afraid, afraid of him at first. Then I feared for him. He abandoned his post, his king. He threw it all away rather than fight in the fire. Through his fear though he remembered me. He came to my room, offered to take me North, to take me home. The battle and the fire... I was too afraid to leave with him. I refused and then he was gone."

Jaime shakes his head and attempts to pull away again. He looks confused. "He came for you?" 

She nods glad he is listening. "I believed for a long time that he kissed me... but it was not true. A girl's fantasy. He would never take what I didn't give, I know that now. I dreamed of that kiss though, dreamed one day he would rescue me. A dark knight rescuing the maiden. In my dreams he could keep me safe. He died though. My dreams died too. My dreams of a life of my own. My dreams of being happy. My dreams of love. All gone." 

"You loved him?" He asks quietly. 

"No. Not truly. He is a better man than most," she answers. "But I do not love him." 

"He loves you?" 

"Perhaps. Or maybe I'm the only one who saw him as a man. As a truer knight than the rest." She laughs a little and touches Jaime gently, "don't tell him I said that. He hates knights." 

"I tried to make the most of what I could. I charmed Harry. I plotted with Littlefinger. I would gossip with Myranda. I tried to find happiness wherever I could. Moments of happiness, fleeting as it was. I would steal it whenever possible. It was enough... because it had to be. It was all I had, it was all I dared hope for. To have just enough. Harry would never love me. I would never be free, never be myself... but it had to be enough. I had no hope. She leans into him and rubs his cheek with her thumb. You gave me hope back. You gave me safety and joy. And pleasure." She shifts and meets his eyes, "maybe love? Love in time. We will build it ourselves. I wouldn't trade you for Sandor. She feels his arms wrap around her." She is bolstered by his support, "but please do not take him from me. He just wanted to save me." 

"Save you from me?" 

"Yes. And the Lannisters. And the crown. He didn't know I want this, that I want you." 

"But he tried..." 

"He had a plan, I convinced him to bring me back. He would be hard to follow. Hard to track down if he hadn't listened." 

"You went with him?" He asks quietly. He is holding her in his arms but it still feels very fragile between them. 

"No I did not, I would not." She answers firmly. "I was on the bench, then I was swept away. I tried to scream, but I had no warning, I didn't hear him coming. A large hand was over my mouth, it obscured almost all my vision as I was carried away. I knew you would come though, I knew you would." 

"Always," he answers. His hand cups he cheek and he brings her into his chest. "I will always come for you. I will tear the world apart to get to you." 

She pulls away and looks up into his eyes smiling. She tilts her head to press a kiss to his lips, he deepens it immediately. He is hungry for her and it excites her in a way she doesn't fully understand. His golden hand snakes around her waist pulling her tight to him. His other hand finds her hair and grips it tight to angle her to his advantage. They continue till she gasps, out of breath and he rests his forehead against hers. He loosens his grip in her hair and uses his thumb to stroke behind her ear. 

"Tell me the rest," he asks. "Tell me of Clegane." 

She nods, "a man carried me away, that is all I knew. I struggled but it was no use, he was too strong for me. I waited and listened. I knew I would have little chance to escape and I had to be brave." She pauses taking a breath, "the sounds changed, his quiet steps began to echo and the wind was gone. I knew I was inside. I struggled once again, but he held me firm. So I went limp... I did not know what else to do." 

"Smart girl," he praises. His left hand running up and down her back. 

"He turned sharply into a room and I heard the door latch. I was afraid I had made a horrible mistake. It could take hours for you to find me." She stops again and kisses his lips lightly. "He laid me down on a bed and I prayed for strength. Little Bird, that was his name for me. When I heard it, I knew I was safe." 

"Little Bird?" Jaime questions. 

"Apparently I chirp," she answers sharply. Leaning back enough to meet his eyes. 

Jaime laughes and pulls her back into his chest. "I can't disagree there." 

"Terrible," she scolds and smacks his chest. 

He kisses her forehead and she rests her head back onto his chest. 

"I opened my eyes as he started to kneel by the bed. He looked surprised but whispered, 'I have you Little Bird you are safe.' He told me how he could keep me safe from the Lannisters, that I didn't have to be married to that 'arrogant fucking lion'."

Jaime scoffs. 

She answers, "he said it not me. I rather like my arrogant lion," she runs her finger down his jaw and across his bottom lip. 

He catches her wrist and lightly bites her finger and softly growls, "yours." 

She smiles back, "mine." 

He places a kiss to her palm and lets her wrist go as both his arms wrap around her. 

"He told me of his plan, a secret path. The servants escape he called it. A narrow path through the rock and stone that lead from the kitchen garden to a small village tucked away in the shadow of the mountain. He had rough spun cloaks and cowels of the brothers of the faith, we would be in disguise. He reasoned if he gave you a head start and we hid in the castle we would be near a week ahead. Before tge ruse was discovered. We would wait until the soldiers started their sweep for the hill tribes. Then we would go the opposite direction. The misdirection would give us time. I told him I did not want to go and he laughed. Something about the lions tearing me apart. I told him I cared for you, that you would protect me. He laughed again but colder, he asked me if the Golden Lion would protect me from Cersei too." She pauses and whispers against his chest, "it's true, is it not, you and your sister. Sandor knows, the rumors are true." 

"He could not..." Jaime pauses. "It was true. The awful truth, we had been lovers since we were young, at the sacrifice of all else. At least for me." He closes his eyes tightly like the words pain him. "It's over. It will never happen again. It was her way to control me, to have power. She was brilliant and cunning and beautiful in her youth... no man could withstand her. She could have been great. It soured though, became tainted. She poisons everything she touches. She never loved me, I am sure of that now. I never knew anything else. Not until you. You do not cripple me, you make me stronger." 

"I... I can not understand, but I trust you." She continues, "she hates me. She will hurt me if she can." 

"No she will not. Not ever. The West will stand between you and her." He meets hers, "I will stand between you and her. You are my wife, we will not be separated. Not by anyone." 

She sees the truth there. "I trust you husband. She will try though." 

He shakes his head. 

"She will, you know it." Sansa counters. "Sandor has no love for her, he will stand for me against Cersei. You will not always be with me. I asked him to be my shield, I should've spoken pto you first but you can trust him." 

"Around my wife? The man who stole you?" 

"He thought he was rescuing me. He is good choice, who better to protect me than a Westerner who hates Cersei?"

"Does he hate me too?" 

"Well he does not seem to like anyone. I am sure he will warm to you. You are rather charming." She plays with the fastens of his armor. "I'm sure you two can get along for me. He is an excellent fighter and an intimidating man. We will have to exonerate him as the Butcher of the Saltpans." 

"You have a gentle heart, wife." 

"And a rational mind," she retorts. "This is no flight of fancy. Who better to be my sworn shield? Who better to protect me? To defend me? Name him and I will consider it... with my gentle heart. Name a man better to defend me than Sandor Clegane." 

"There is none," he concedes. "My wife is fierce too. A gentle heart with wolf's blood coursing through her viens." His eyes search her face and he smiles. "Clegane will be your sworn shield..." 

"Thank you," she answers with a kiss. 

"But," he continues. "He will have to speak to me first. There will be a few obstacles for him to complete first. You will have a second guard or more till I am satisfied." 

"Thank you, thank you," she mumbles between kisses. 

"One more thing," he pauses dramatically taking both her hands in his. "Marry me." 

She narrows her eyes in confusion. 

"Marry me here, in the Sept, out in the garden I care not. Marry me again, show the world you come to me. That I didn't force your hand." 

"Of course," she whispers. "Must we wait for this wedding to consummate our love?" She pulls on his chest plate. A coy smile playing on her lips. 

"Love," he repeats. "My love, I will do anything you want." She pulls at the buckles and removes his chest plate quickly enough, his gorget and pauldron as well. She pulls at his tunic until her hand slides across his bare skin. He pulls at the tie of her cloak letting it fall to the ground. He has her gown half unlaced between kisses when there is a knock on the door. 

"My Lord," she hears Addam through the door. 

He kisses her hard and turns to crack the door open. She works the straps on the back of his armor and kissing at any part she frees. "Yes Addam." She has little doubt Addam can see her diligently undressing him.

"What do you want to do with Clegane?" Addam asks and flashes a wry smile. 

"Get the man a bath and a meal... a room too," Jaime answers. She is pulling at his armor. "Have guards outside his door, I will speak to him at my leisure. He is a Westerman, I expect he will be treated as such. I will be... indisposed for a bit." She giggles and Addam's smile widens. "He can stew until then." 

"It will be done," Addams tone is perfectly respectful but his eyes alight with mischief. 

"Oh, let Lord Royce know we have chosen for the septon to marry us tomorrow afternoon. Any arrangements he can have made will be appreciated." 

"That will make your father happy," Addam answers. "It will be done." 

"Excuse me I have more pressing engagements," Jaime nods to Addam. 

Addam claps him on the shoulder. "She is good for you." 

Jaime turns around as he latches the door. Sansa looks startled. "Your father? Pleased?" The Great Lion is dead, even she knows that. 

"Oh, yes I had not mentioned. My father yet lives, tough old cat. It is a secret though and we have more important things to discuss at this time." 

"Discuss?" She asks. 

"Well I plan on using my lips, but maybe not for talking." He pulls her into him and steals her breath with his kiss. 

She removes the last pieces of his armor, but she is slower with him kissing her neck. She finally drops the last of it to the ground. Instead of removing his clothes though she takes a step back. She pulls the last of her ties free and shrugs out of her dress. Her shift below is quickly removed leaving her near bare before him. 

She watches his eyes pass over her. "Are you to remain dressed?" She taunts, lowering herself onto the bed. "Or are you going to join me? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter done.  
> Thanks for reading.  
> Jaime and Sandor will interact next chapter.  
> Ehh, so I lied... snmut next, because my little lovelies need to reconnect. Hopefully i can get it posted tomorrow.


	10. Damsel in Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a terrible beast that keeps me trapped in this room." She giggles as he sucks on her neck. "Please my knight... save me!" 
> 
> He smirks, she wants to play. She is full of surprises. He growls back, "I will slay the beast, but first I will taste you... princess." 
> 
> "Will it bolster your strength ser?"
> 
> He smiles against her neck, "doubt it." 
> 
> "My husband is terrible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes... two chapters in one day.  
> It's short and sweet.  
> They didn't quite fit together.

He crosses the floor to reach her quickly. He pulls off his tunic and undershirt, then stumbles out of his trousers on the way. He climbs the bed, then over his wife. He hovers above her trying to decide where to start. 

"My knight..." she taunts. "My charming husband." 

He settles in the cradle of her hips and kisses her fiercely. Her hands grasp his arse and guide him to rock into her. He lets his weight press against her. 

"My princess, my wife," he growls in reply. 

"There is a terrible beast that keeps me trapped in this room." She giggles as he sucks on her neck. "Please my knight... save me!" 

He smirks, she wants to play. She is full of surprises. He growls back, "I will slay the beast, but first I will taste you... princess." 

"Will it bolster your strength Ser?"

He smiles against her neck, "doubt it." 

"My husband is terrible," she lets go of his arse and manages to roll them over. Now sitting astride him she threatens, "maybe I will slay the beast myself and you can be the damsel in distress." She balances a hand on his chest and rocks into him. She leans down like to kiss, but backs away when he tries to meet her lips. 

"You tease. You terrible mistress," he whines. 

"I rather like the view from up here." She smiles down at him her hips keeping a steady cadence. Her hand drags slowly down his stomach. 

Her body moves slowly and deliberately. "I enjoy this view as well, wife." He runs his hand up hip then her side. He traces the underside of her breast with his finger before trailing it back down to cup her arse. His gold hand rests on her left hip. "Raise up my love and you can take me this way." He pats her arse twice.

"Take you?" She questions. He watches her eyes light as she takes in his meaning. Her eyes lock with his as she bites her lip, how she can look so innocent naked astride him, he has no idea. 

"It's easy wife," he pats her arse again and she sits high on her knees and his cock springs to attention. "Just lower yourself upon me... and take control." 

She shifts her stance and uses her right hand to grasp him. As she guides him to her heat, they both groan at the contact. When he is sheathed completely he whispers, "breathe my wolf." 

"It is wonderful," she whispers back. 

"It is," he answers. "Just rock your hips like before," his words turn into a groan as she follows his direction. 

"Good?" She asks with a panting breath. 

"Yes," he hisses through his teeth as her pace steadies. "Faster or slower, it's you in control." 

Her hips slow, a pleased smile on her face and she closes her eyes in concentration. 

She looks beautiful. Her hair like fire around her shoulders, creamy skin flushed pink. Her head leans back as she rides him slowly. She may be in control but he's far from powerless against her. He pulls his hand forward across her hip and as his thumb brushes that pearl at the apex of her thighs and he bucks up into her. She lets out a gasp and her eyes meet his. 

"I can hardly let you forget I am here. Can I... princess?" He sits up and kisses her passionately. She whines into his kiss and her hips move faster. 

"Oh gods," she cries out. Her lip is between her teeth again. 

"No gods here, just me." He tries to keep his voice steady. 

She pushes him with a hand to his chest and he falls back onto the bed. "Just you and me," she says with a breathy determination. Her left hand leaves his chest and she raises it into her hair before it lowers and squeezes her breast. "More," she commands. Her speed not increasing but each movement has greater force behind it. Her hand drops to meet his and she presses his hand tighter against her, "more." 

"As you command," he answers near breathless as her. He answers each of her movements with a thrust upwards. They moan in unison. 

"Yes, yes," she calls out her voice high and slightly broken. 

He only manages to growl in return. He is desperately trying not to come before his wife.

"Oh gods Jaime," she cries out her body moving faster. "Please Jaime, please..." she moans. 

He feels her shudder and clamp around his cock squeezing him tight. He clinches his teeth together and counts to ten in his head. The pressure building up in him borders on pain until he growls out, "Sansa," instead of ten and lets his body follow her's into release. His hips buck up into her without direction. His balls tightens and that warmth, that bliss, that high courses through his body. Her movements slow and he feels her lay down upon his chest and groan out loud. 

"That was lovely, I like it," she whispers absently. Her breath tickling his chest. 

"It was, well done," he chuckles. Patting her arse again. "You are a natural." 

Her fingers are tracing shapes on his chest. He loves it when she does that. She shifts, her chest presses against his side. His left arm supports her there his hand runs up and down her spine. 

"What is it you draw there?" He asks before thinking it through. 

She pauses and looks up at him. Her blue eyes are bright and when she speaks he had nearly forgotten his question. 

"I trace my name," she kisses his chest lightly. "Because you are mine." 

"I am," he answers. His eyelids feel heavy and he is soothed by the feel of his wife's soft skin under his hand. He is just starting to doze when he hears her speak again. 

"Jaime," she says with alarm in her voice and she sits up quickly. "Whose room are we in?" 

He can not help but laugh and kiss her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was pure smut. I couldn't seem to ficus to get it in the last chapter. It took just over an hour though once I posted the other.  
> Ehh, the muse is alive tonight.


	11. A Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do not put me on some pedestal, I am no golden knight." 
> 
> Clegane just laughes. 
> 
> "She was right, I should have brought her with me." Jaime closes his eyes and scrubs his chin. 
> 
> "Sansa?" Clegane asks. 
> 
> "Yes, she is better at this than me," Jaime admits. 
> 
> "First right thing you have fucking said." 
> 
> "Can you speak without cursing?" Jaime argues. 
> 
> "Can you not talk out your arse?" Clegane retorts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petyr Baelish

"This is a farce," Petyr pleads. "She is manipulating that idiot lion and using you as well. She is manipulating you all." 

"She merely confirmed our suspicions of you," Lord Royce answers lazily looking out the window. 

"She is mine," Littlefinger insists. "I sacrificed too much for her. You know what it cost me to get her out of Kings Landing? She is mine." 

"She is most certainly not yours," Lord Royce insists and turns to face him. "Lady Stark has married Ser Jaime Lannister, that is not an ally we can turn away from. It is not one I would want to. Lady Sansa ney, Lady Lannister has confessed her deception in protecting you from your part in the death of the Lady Lysa. She also spoke of Lysa's confession and your manipulation of Lady Lysa to poison Jon Arryn.

He pauses, "you cannot believe her." 

Why is that? 

"She is lying, she is playing a game," he insists. She cannot do this to him, not after all he has done for her, after everything. 

"I disagree. I think she is airing her sins. Clearing her slate," Lord Royce argues. "You have never been in love Lord Baelish." 

"Well..." 

"It was not a question." Lord Royce sighs. "You may have thought it once, but it's not true. Love is selfless, there is no debt. I do not know if it is something you could even understand."

"Exactly she is playing a game..." 

"No." The older man shakes his head. "The dear girl fell in love. She wants to begin anew with her husband. She is done with your games. Wishes to cast all lies aside, to start anew.

He scowls, "who told you that?"

"The Lady herself. It is clear to see though, if you look. She has a new lightness, a brightness that was dampened before. They compliment each other, they are better together. More. His eyes are softer too. He will move mountains for her. They will be a song... mark my words." 

"It is just a game." 

"This is no game, this is people's lives." Lord Royce waves his hand as if to disregard him. "No, she has slipped from your grasp. You have no power over her. She will no longer protect you. You are alone, this court is no longer yours. 

"I have allies..."

"You do not, not anymore." Lord Royce says with confidence.

Littlefinger eyes are blazing. "Lady Waynwood..."

Lord Royce smiles, "Lady Waynwood will no longer support your claim Lord Baelish." 

"But..." 

"The debt she owes will be paid in full as honor insists... but not to you. Your treachery and dishonor know no bounds. She will pay the house Arryn, you will not see a coin from her." 

His eyes widen in shock. 

"You have no allies left here. Lord Gilwood has abandoned you. He seeks information on the death of his father, he seems convinced you had a part in it. He has left to settle his house." Lord Royce continues. "Lord Grafton and Lord Belmore have seen the error of their ways. They've publicly sworn to Lords Declarent. The grain stores will be managed with integrity no more hoarding goods. We will support the Vale with the Lords Declarent until Lord Arryn is of age. My cousin Lord Nestor Royce will continue his service but he has been aligned with the Lords Declarent now. You have no one Lord Baelish.

He searches his mind for a response, even if it's just a delay.

"Oh, I nearly forgot... Lothor Brune and Lyn Corbrey have interesting stories as well." Lord Royce interjects. "There is a new witness as well. A man who defected from the crown. He gave interesting testimony of your involvement in Ned Stark's death." 

"There was never…" 

"The Hound has risen from the dead to condemn you. He was in the throne room when you held a blade to Lord Stark's neck. When you told him he should never have trusted you. That may be the only sound advise you have ever given." 

"But... I..." Littlefinger stutters. 

"You have no friends here Littlefinger." Lord Royce sighs, "do you have anything to say in your defense? Any game left to play?" 

He stumbles for a response. "The crown, I have friends..." 

"The crown cannot save you now. Your crimes are for the Vale to exact justice, the crown holds no sway. The Lords Declarent will weigh the evidence and I expect justice to be swift. That is all." Lord Royce nods to the guards, "take him back to his rooms." 

He is dragged back to his rooms. His cell. Now he is pacing, racking his brain for a defense. He knows what he is up against, but unsure how much of his schemes they know. He wraps his thoughts around the fact this may all be for nothing. Years of planning with no prize. He feels it all slipping through his fingers. 

\-------------

Jaime

"Jaime…" he raises his head from watching her hands buckle his jerkin to meet her eyes. 

"Yes darling," he drawls pulling her into him.

"Be nice to Sandor," she whispers. "Please," running her fingers along the front of him and straightening his sleeves. 

"When am I not nice?" He smiles, kissing her lips. 

"Hmm, you can be rather… petulant," she answers. "Don't let him goad you. He can be quite confrontational when he feels provoked." 

"Remember he is to be my shield," she gently scolds running her fingers through his hair to calm him. "Riling him up will only make him defensive and difficult. Maybe I should come with you… to smooth things over." 

"No," he shakes his head but is still smiling. "There are a few things I must settle before he can be your sheild. You enjoy your time with Royce and Myranda, plan the ceremony for tomorrow." He presses another kiss to her lips, "don't spend all my gold darling. I will deal with the Hound." 

"Sandor, his name is Sandor Clegane. My handsome husband will secure him as my sheild. He is the fiercest warrior in the land and a Westerner by birth." She pecks a small kiss to his lips. "Remember… he will protect me and you want that… correct?" 

"I do… of course." 

"Then do not let him drag you into a squabble," she cups his face and offers a gentle kiss. "He may think you mean to sentence him to death. Husband, do not let him taunt you into a fight."

"Husband, I love the way you say that," he growls back. He lifts her hand and pecks two kisses to it. "Let us go find Lord Royce, duty calls." 

He leads her to Lord Royce's solar. There are four Vale knights and three of his own men for her protection. Corbrey is among them, despite his recent shortcomings, Jaime does not believe he will ever fail him again. If he does, well there is a reason why they say Lannister's pay their debts. 

"Be gone, so I can have you back." She pushes on his chest gently. "And Jaime… do not start a fight."

He scoffs a laugh. Then he sweeps her up holding her tight against him. He kisses her and when he squeezes her bum she can't help but squeal. 

"Do not go anywhere until I'm back. There are gaurds on the doors you are safe here until I return." 

He closes the doors himself and nods to her guards before striding down the hallway. He takes a deep breath as he nears the room where Clegane is held. He gives two quick knocks and pushes through the door. 

"Ah, finally here to punish me?" Clegane growls. He's lounging in a chair eating. He doesn't even rise when Jaime enters. "Fucking lions," he grumbles under his breath. 

"I had to see to my wife." 

"Wife," Clegane scoffs tossing a chicken leg on the table. 

"I had to make sure she was unharmed," Jaime's voice drops into a serious tone. 

Clegane stands abruptly, knocking over the chair. Jaime hears the men behind him draw their swords.

"I would never fucking hurt her." Clegane points an accusing finger at him, "I would never let anyone hurt her." He takes offense to the suggestion he might. His sneer turns mocking, "I would never let anyone steal her either." Clegane crosses his arms across his chest and locks eyes with Jaime. 

Jaime grits his teeth and fists his hand in an attempt to retrain himself. He tips his head to the guards behind him. "Out," he commands. 

"But ser," one answers.

Jaime turns his head to look him in the eye, "out." The guards shuffle out and Jaime can see Clegane assessing him head to toe. 

"That is a bad play," Clegane growls. "I could gut you before they could open the fucking door." 

"You are unarmed," Jaime snaps. 

"I don't need a weapon to crush you," Clegane threatens with a cold look. 

"That Ser," Jaime cracks his neck with an air of nonchalance. "That would disappoint Sansa." Jaime sees the man's prickly demeanor crack for an instant. She does matter to him. 

"Not a Ser," Clegane bites back. 

"You stole my wife," Jaime growls. 

"I'd do it again. You let it happen."

"What am supposed to do with that?"

"Whatever you fucking want." Clegane growls back. "It's the truth. You left her exposed, unguarded." 

"She had a guard," Jaime snaps. 

"Shit lot of good that did," Clegane's eyes blazing. "I walked right in and took her from under his nose." 

"You stole her," Jaime accuses. 

"If you think I am the last person that will try you are dumber than you look. Men have wanted her for years, pretty face with a nobel name. Then you make her a fucking Lannister… worth her weight in gold now. They will come for her. If you let them." 

"How do I stop them?" 

"With steel. With blood" Clegane laughs. 

"You would do that?" Jaime asks. "You would die for her?" 

"That ship's sailed," he mumbles out. "You got her turned around. You got her to trust you with that fucking Lannister charm. I see you though."

"What do you see?" 

Clegane begins to pace the small room. His lip twitches and his knuckles whiten as he makes a fist. "I swear to you if you hand her over to your sister I'll come back from the grave to cut off your fucking head." 

"Dead? Are you planning to die Clegane?" Jaime mocks. 

"Fuck you," Clegane snaps. 

"This is going sideways," Jaime rubs his temple with his left hand. 

"Fucking idiot," Clegane mumbles. "Thought you were a decent man. I remember coming to Casterly, you all fucking golden and perfect. Son of the fucking lion. You were deadly though, it wasn't all for show. Fast and in control, what a fucking knight should be. You killed the Mad King. Saw him for the monster he was. You saw what my brother was too, he was Tywin's dog not yours." 

"You were always blind to her though.You couldn't see what was staring you in the face. Cersei sunk her claws in right deep and never let you go. All your life you have been following that blonde cunt. Now you are going to drag the Little Bird down too." 

"Fuck you," Jaime snarls. 

"Aye, fuck you too." 

"Do not put me on some pedestal, I am no golden knight." 

Clegane just laughes. 

"She was right, I should have brought her with me." Jaime closes his eyes and scrubs his chin. 

"Sansa?" Clegane asks. 

"Yes, she is better at this than me," Jaime admits. 

"First right thing you have fucking said." 

"Can you speak without cursing?" Jaime argues. 

"Can you not talk out your arse?" Clegane retorts. 

Jaime groans, "Fuck this. She wants you to be her shield." He pauses and takes a breath. "I need you to be her shield. I have agreed… if we can come to an accord. I need someone who will protect her at all costs… I cannot have her hurt." 

"I could do that, for her." Clegane concedes suspiciously. 

"You will have to swear allegiance to me," Jaime starts. 

"Not fucking likely," Clegane rasps. 

"You will."

"No, I will not. I will not serve you over her."

Jaime is hit with a memory… nights posted outside queen Rhaella's bed chamber. Posted there to protect the King, the Mad King. Protecting that monster as he _took _his liberties with an unwilling wife. The nights the King raped the Queen. Her cries for help still haunt him. The Kingsgaurd protects the Royal Family, but not from the King. That was the night he discovered how soiled the shine was on the Kingsgaurd's honor.__

"You would protect her from any threat?" Jaime asks breathlessly. 

"Aye," Clegane answers, his eyes dark.

"Even the crown?" Jaime asks slowly. 

"Yes." 

"Lannisters?" 

Clegane straightens, standing taller. "Yes."

"From Cersei?" Jaime asks, his eyes on the big man. 

"Fuck yes."

"You will protect her from me?" 

"For her," Clegane smiles devilishly, staring back at him. "I'd cut you down in a heartbeat."

"Perfect," Jaime breaks their stare. "That will be enough." 

Sandor looks to him with surprise. 

"You will swear to my wife," Jaime orders. "You will protect her and her children from any who bid them harm. You will follow her orders, her command."

Clegane narrows his eyes, "protect her from anyone?" Clegane asks. 

"And everyone," is Jaime's simple reply. 

"You mean it don't you?"

"I do," Jaime answers. "I will not give her up. Not for Cersei, not for anyone."

"She… she is easy to love." Clegane admits. 

"Will that be a problem?"

"No," reluctantly. "It's enough. She is safe, I will protect her and her babes. I want men though, four at least, more at the Rock. I want men who can put loyalty to Sansa ahead of others. Young men, men that have never been to court with Cersei." 

"It will be done," Jaime answers quickly. 

"I'll need new armor, mine is shit." 

"I am sure Lady Sansa can assist you with choosing some lovely armor." Jaime smiles. 

"Lovely armor, just what I fucking need." Clegane gripes. "I don't want any flowers or fucking jewels." 

"That you can take up with the Lady," Jaime mocks. "I do not expect to need you till morning. Tomorrow we will wed, I will need you with her while we are seperated to prepare for the ceremony." 

"What?" Clegane scoffs. "I thought you were married?" 

"We are, but it was done in haste. We spent our first night in a prison cell. I mean to remedy that misstep." 

"You are fucking smitten," Clegane offers. 

"Like you said, she is easy to love." 

"You will be good to her," Jaime cannot tell if Clegane means it as a question or a threat. 

"I will. I would tear it all down for her." Jaime takes a slow breath. "When I lost her… when you took her… I have never felt loss like that." 

"It hurts," is Clegane's quiet answer. He clears his throat. "Listen to her, she is good. She will make you a better man." 

Jaime nods back. Looking up at the big man he feels they have an accord. Jaime offers him his hand, Clegane takes it briefly and the deal is set. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not much Jaimsa this chapter but tying some things up. 
> 
> Wedding next then skipping on out of the Vale. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	12. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you be fucking quiet?" Jaime orders. 
> 
> "Fuck off," Sandor growls. "You try wrangling this fucking snake then tell me about quiet."
> 
> Jaime shakes his head. 
> 
> "Can I cut his throat?" Sandor asks. 
> 
> "No," Jaime answers. "I do not want blood everywhere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid traditions. He turns over again and groans into the pillow. "Oh you are going to be married tomorrow," he mocks the words of the septon. "It's only proper for the Lady and Lord to sleep separately." Then she was gone, with a peck of a kiss she was gone. Off to spend the night giggling and gossiping with Myranda. Leaving him alone, in their bed, without his wife. Did they all forget they were already married? They already shared the marriage bed. Ridiculous. Simply ridiculous. They could have at least told him earlier. How was he supposed to sleep without her? He barely even got to say goodbye. She's been gone for hours. He rolls over again, staring up at the ceiling. 

No, nope. Fuck this. It's not happening. Sansa is his fucking wife and he will have her back... now. He throws the blankets off and climbs out of bed grumbling to himself. He pulls on a robe and is out of his chambers in an instant. He starts down the hallway in a huff. He knows the general direction to go but not her precise location. He hears the guard posted at his door startle to attention and give chase. 

"Ser," the soldier says. Following in his wake. 

Jaime does not slow, "I'm going to get my wife." He strides down the hallway and up a flight of stairs, he takes one turn, then another. It takes him to the east wing where he knows the Vale nobels reside. There is no one in the hall to guide him, at least until he sees a large shape half a dozen doors down.

"Took you long enough," Sandor grumbles as Jaime approaches. Without instruction Sandor raises his fist and knocks on the door he's stationed beside. 

He hears the giggling before the door opens. Finally it swings to reveal Myranda in a dressing gown that honestly doesn't leave her very dressed. 

"Ser Jaime," Myranda giggles, "what a surprise." 

"Well met," he starts.

Sansa asks with concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes and no," he answers with little patience. "I'm tired and would like my wife back." 

"But it's tradition…" Myranda starts. 

"No," Jaime interrupts. "I'm a married man and traditionally a husband sleeps with his wife. I want my wife in my bed," he does not care if he sounds like a pouty toddler. 

Sansa kisses each of Myranda's cheeks, "I am sorry I must go attend to my husband." 

Both women burst out laughing. 

"Thank you for the chat, Lady Sansa." Myranda smiles at Jaime impishly. "Enjoy your husband." She starts to laugh again but not before dropping two coins in Clegane's hand. 

Sansa takes Jaime's arm and they start down the hallway, Clegane following a respectable distance behind. Sansa looks up to him and bites her lip, "Myranda lost the bet." 

Jaime nods, "what bet?"

"Myranda thought we would barely be back to her room before you would demand me back. Sandor disagreed, he said the Lannister pride would slow you down, it would take over an hour but three tops." 

"Well I am glad to earn him a bit of spending money." 

"I do enjoy spending time with her, but I missed you too," she admits. 

They enter their shared chambers and settle into bed. She pillows her head on his chest, his right arm holds her close. He likes knowing it's her name, Sansa Lannister, she traces on his chest. 

"We can be chaste tonight," he kisses her brow. "Make the septon happy." 

"Chaste, really?" 

He mocks offense, "I can be strong. I can control my urges." 

She smiles, "of course. My husband is the strongest of men." 

"I want you in my bed always," he admits. "I care for you, know that. It's all happening faster than I anticipated. You make me happy though. It's beyond duty to me." 

"I feel it too," she confirms. "There's something building between us. I like it when you're near and I long to touch you." She raises her hand to cup his jaw. Her eyes meet his, "I am yours and you are mine." 

"I am yours and you are mine," he repeats. Their lips meet in a soft kiss. 

She snuggles back into his right side and what is remaining of his arm holds her close again. "Tell me a story of the West," she asks with a yawn.

"I'll tell you the story of how Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion, rose from the dead."

"I heard he was dead," she admits. 

"Oh, that little rumor." He smiles with a secret on his lips. "My father is very much alive. He was indeed struck with a quarrel to the belly and the shoulder." 

He shakes his head then, "doomed Pycelle said, he said milk of the poppy was all we could do. Ease his passing until the Stranger came to collect. He was wrong though the old lion survived. I had our family maester treating him, it was two days before he was sure he would survive." Jaime laughs, "I think he is too mean to die." 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I'm slow in the information I get here," she answers. 

He runs his thumb along her cheek, "No one knows," he whispers. "Cersei doesn't even know. It was just assumed he would die so no one questioned further. So I just let them believe it."

"So he is trapped in KingsLanding?" She asks. "Living like a ghost?"

"No, this is the best part." He explains excitedly. "I had a sarcophagus made, adorned with gold, rubies and of course… lions. A tribute to the Great Lion. It was a vessel fit to be paraded through the streets of King's Landing to his final resting place at Casterly Rock. I got to lock the Great Lion in a box." He laughs. "He was shipped out of King's Landing in a fancy crate. He's at Casterly Rock quietly securing and fortifying the West."

"Jaime, that is incredible. 

His fingers card through her hair. "You are my wife, my ally and confidant. My father gave me the title Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock. The old lion sent me to secure the lands of the Riverlands and rally our troops home. I can also tell you he begged me to consider a wife. I refused him, again. He is currently quietly searching the West for a suitable wife for me. He is convinced he can find me someone. Absurd notion really. Where would he ever find a wife suitable for me? I mean look at me... I'm rather marvelous honestly." He smiles at her. 

"You are terrible." She takes a deep breath. "So, you are telling me Tywin Lannister is alive, in the West and not aligned with the crown?"

"Well it's unofficial as of now." 

"Wait, a wife," she bites her lip. "Will he be disappointed by our marriage? Will he be angry you are married to a traitor to the crown?" 

"You are mine regardless," Jaime states confidently kissing her hair. "Second there's no fault in our match, there is not a woman in this kingdom better suited for me. Your pedigree is without equal. A princess in fact. Heir to the Crown of the North. Strong family ties to the Riverlands and the Vale. Descendent of a line of Kings older than any other great house in Westeros." 

"Third and most importantly… the reason I want you with me. You are clever without being cruel. You give care and understanding where scorn would be easier. Just look at how Sweet Robin loves you, Sandor, even Addam. You found a gentler way. You have won them over as well as many here at the Vale through your kindness. But… this kindness does not make you weak or fragile." 

"Then there are the things that only I get. The sighs, the blushes. The curve of your back where it slopes into your arse." He nuzzles into her hair. "The way you call out my name in that high-pitched keen when I touch you just right." He lets his fingertips trace down her shoulder, then down the dip of her waist to the flair of her hip. His hand lingers there smoothing the fabric that covers her. 

He kisses her hair and holds her close. It is not long till they slip off to sleep. 

______

Jaime wakes early, before the dawn. He dresses quickly, pecks a kiss to his still sleeping wife and quietly exits the room. Addam and Sandor are waiting for him there. 

It's Sandor who speaks first but it's directed to the two guards at the door. "Stay here with Lady Lannister," he growls. "We will be back before light, she's to remain undisturbed until then." 

"Yes ser," they reply in unison. 

Sandor's eyes narrow, but they have no time to waste. 

They find their quarry easily enough, although nothing could have stopped them in their mission. Now Addam is waiting down the hall to alert them if needed. 

"Can you be fucking quiet?" Jaime orders. 

"Fuck off," Sandor growls. "You try wrangling this fucking snake then tell me about quiet."

Jaime shakes his head. 

"Can I cut his throat?" Sandor asks. 

"No," Jaime answers. "I don't want blood everywhere."

"Just falling out a window, hardly seems enough punishment." Sandor growls. "Executions should have blood, this is not nearly enough blood." 

Jaime laughs, "there will be blood. The moondoor is six hundred feet off the ground. He will have a few moments of fall before his body bursts upon the ground." 

"Still seems like he's getting off easy," Sandor rolls his eyes. "Maybe I should take a finger to give to the Little Bird?"

"I don't think she wants a bloody finger," Jaime corrects.

"You don't know everything."

Jaime hisses back through his teeth, "I know she will not be wearing a bloody finger around her neck."

"You got a fucking point. How about a rib?" He says seriously. "I could carve it into something pretty."

"Better, but again the blood. Littlefinger is to disappear, not leave a trail of blood out the moondoor." 

"Right." Sandor abruptly stands Littlefinger on his feet. 

"Any last words?" Jaime asks. 

Littlefinger starts trying to mumble words through the gag. 

"He's quiet," Jaime jokes, "that's new."

Littlefinger's eyebrows go up and he seems to try harder for his words to get past the gag. 

"You know he's considerably more tolerable when he does not speak," Jaime offers. 

"Still a mouthy cunt," Sandor adds. 

"I, Jaime Lannister, Warden of the West, sentence you to death for crimes against my wife and her family. The Lords Declarant have found you guilty as well. Royce sends his regrets he could not be present today." He nods to Sandor. 

Sandor leans into the man with a rasp he whispers, "you are a cunt and a liar. You hurt her, now you die."

"Eloquent," Jaime mocks. "You should have been a poet."

"Fuck off."

"I have nothing else." Jaime shrugs, "let him go?" 

"My pleasure," Sandor grins through his response. 

Sandor pushes the man forward, holding onto his collar so he can see through the moon door. Then he simply lets go. 

"Bye," Sandor mutters. 

They both cock their heads watching as Littlefinger disappears through the mist. 

"Bye?" Jaime mocks.

"What the fuck was I supposed to say?" Sandor asks. 

"Eloquent as ever." 

______

The Little Lord is glaring at him. Jaime cannot help but smile at him and wiggle his fingers in a wave. Sweet Robin's lip sticks out in a pout and he slumps down into his seat. Jaime looks to Harry the arse, that man looks like he would rather be anywhere than here. He then glances at Addam, he scoffs. Addam is sitting entirely too close to Myranda Royce, what's going on there? 

There is some quiet music playing in the background. He's waiting patiently, well impatiently actually, but he's still waiting. He looks up to the ceiling, it must be thirty feet high, every column and arch white looking carved from ice. It's a lovely sept tall and narrow, pale blue windows creating an illusion of cold almost frozen light.

The cadence of the music changes and his eyes are drawn to the doors. A warm light seeping through the crack in the doors is the first thing he sees. Then all he can see is Sansa. The light behind her lights up her unbound hair in fiery waves. He takes a sharp breath in, he couldn't turn away if he tried. Her gown is white as fresh snow but it shines with drops of ice. 

He feels a warmth take hold as he thinks my wife… mine. Her eyes meet his and she starts down the aisle to him. She walks alone her head held high. Lord Royce holds at the door. It's a statement, she comes to him on her own, willingly. He wants to go to her, run even but he waits. He takes the few steps down to guide her up, but instead he is weak. He cannot resist. His gold hand finds her waist and the other cups her jaw. He holds the kiss for a count of three, it's chaste, but barely. Taking her hand he helps up to the altar. He plants one more kiss to her cheek and she smiles back. They turn to face the septon together. 

"Who comes today to be bound in marriage?" The septon asks. 

Jaime turns to her, his gold hand finds her hip and his left holds her hand. "I, Jaime of House Lannister." He raises his voice for all to hear, his words echo their first vows . "Son of the Sunset Sea, a descendant of the Andals, the first men, and Kings of the Rock." He raises her hand for a kiss. "I come to be bound to this woman." 

She responds in kind. "I, Sansa of House Stark. Daughter of Winter, a descendant of the First Men and King's of Winter. I come to be bound to this man." 

The Septons draw their attention. "Offer your hands." 

Jaime offers his hand left palm up, Sansa takes it with her right, palm down. They lace their fingers together, it is a long sash of deep velvet red. As their hands are bound together Jaime notices a golden lion on one end and a silver wolf on the other. He looks up into her eyes and she smiles back at him. He restrains himself from kissing her again, but just barely. 

"As I bind your hands, I also bind you as one family, one life, one heart."

They repeat the vows together, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger."

"I am hers and she is mine," he says with a smile. 

"I am his and he is mine," she replies. 

He shifts his hand pulling her against him. The sash floating to the ground. His gold hand finds the small of her back his left cups her face. "Mine," he whispers. 

Both her hands come up to cradle his jaw. "Mine," she whispers back. 

They meet in two quick kisses before he wraps his arms around her, lifting her onto her toes and into a hungry kiss. the hall errupts in applause. 

"Yours," she whispers. 

"Yours," he answers. "What do you have planned now?" He asks. 

"Early dinner in the hall," then we can retire. 

"Perfect," he answers pecking one more kiss on her lips. He bends and sweeps her off her feet and into his arms. 

She laughs and she wraps her hands around his neck. "Husband," she smiles. 

"Wife," is his reply as he carries her down the aisle and to the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are finally married, again. 
> 
> Sooner or later I will actually get them out of the Vale.  
> Then what? I guess we will find out together. This tiny story has taken on a mind of its own. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	13. Myrish Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie was up to his normal ridiculous antics though. He moves her chair closer and angles it to his seeming intent to touch her at all times. His hand on hers, his knee against her leg, his lips pressing a lingering kiss with increasing frequency. Then, then her husband proceeds to feed her from his own plate. You would think her husband had been raised in a brothel, not high in the halls of Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feast was more elaborate than she had expected. Jaime’s decision to marry her may have been made only yesterday but the response by the Vale was incredible. It really should be no surprise. The cooks here were good and capable. Their grain and food stores were good. The stewards and servants were well trained and proud of their work. The fact that the Vale would want an ally with the West and North was not missed on her. Even Lord Robin, who was angry at Jaime for stealing her away, wanted to make her happy. 

Jamie was up to his normal ridiculous antics though. He moves her chair closer and angles it to his seeming intent to touch her at all times. His hand on hers, his knee against her leg, his lips pressing a lingering kiss with increasing frequency. Then, then her husband proceeds to feed her from his own plate. You would think her husband had been raised in a brothel, not high in the halls of Casterly Rock. 

Lord Royce approaches just after the food was cleared informing her that Littlefinger was missing. Shocked at first she listens intently. The men guarding his cell have sore heads and the room looked as if a struggle had taken place, kidnapping he suspects. No one, including Jaime seems too concerned about finding Littlefinger or the culprit. If the fake look of surprise on Jaime’s face and the strange grin that had been present on Sandor’s face all day was any indication, Littlefinger was no longer a problem and will likely never be found. She doesn't revel in the deaths of others but she feels relief knowing Littlefinger can no longer haunt her steps. 

Sansa leans in to Jaime and asks, "do you have something to tell me husband? An unconventional gift of sorts from you and Sandor." 

"Whatever do you mean?" He taunts with a smirk. 

She narrows her eyes slightly at him. 

He smiles back barely holding back a laugh. He lifts her hand to his lips, "I will do anything to help you feel safe." He cocks his and nods to Sandor a few chairs down, "Sandor concurs." 

"Jaime… I was would never ask-" 

"You will never have to ask. He hurt my wife, he was a threat to you. To us. That cannot stand." He looks at her seriously now and brings his hand to cup her cheek. She can't help but lean into his touch. "No one will hurt you." 

Her hand catches his chin. "Thank you," she whispers, bringing his lips to hers for a kiss. "Husband," she hums as they seperate. 

"Wife," he answers. His green eyes flashing. "How much longer must we stay? I have a desire for my wife. I bore of the company here." 

She smiles back, "patience. The gifts will be received and dessert will be served." 

"That sounds awfully boring," he replies.  
“I have something else in mind for dessert.” He draws their lips together again in a chaste kiss but licks her bottom lip with his retreat. 

“Behave,” she scolds. 

“Never,” he whispers back. She feels his hand drop onto her thigh, at first he is just dragging his fingers up and down. Then her husband the scoundrel starts to pull at the fabric inching it up. 

"Jaime," she scolds. 

He smiles, pretending to ignore her. 

Soon she can feel his warm fingertips upon her knee smoothing small circles there. He just must torment her while she fights to maintain decorum. 

Lord Yohn Royce is the first to approach. “Lord and Lady Lannister,” his tone formal this time. Although I have no doubt your husband can provide you with the finest of all mounts-” 

Jamie laughs and squeezes her leg. 

“I am pleased to present you with a beautiful dapple gray mare for your journey home. She is strong and sure-footed for the trek through the pass. Equally confident on snow and ice. She was bred to be in the calvary of the Knights of the Vale, but her temperament proved too gentle for combat. She is brave and obedient but lacks the ferocity needed to be a weapon in battle. She will be waiting for you in the morning, saddled and ready for your journey.” 

“Thank you Lord Royce,” Sansa answers. “I cannot wait to have the pleasure of her company.” Lord Royce bows giving them a short moment between gifts. 

Jaime leans in, “I intend to be the only mount you need, wife.” 

“You are a terrible tease,” she scolds quietly. 

Myranda Royce is next, nearly dragging her father Lord Nestor Royce behind her. He is glaring at his cousin Yohn Royce, apparently the bad blood has not been fully resolved yet. 

“Lord and Lady Lannister,” Myranda starts then leans in closer, “Sansa my dear you are radiant. Marriage looks good on you.” 

“Myranda,” the other Lord Royce scolds. 

“Yes father,” she huffs. She motions for a servant to bring the gifts to the table. Sansa is presented with a fur-lined overdress and Jaime a thick leather jerkin lined with fur as well. “The boring ones first,” Myranda mumbles. Then she motions and an ornate wooden box is placed on the table. “This one is from me, you may want to open it in your chambers." 

Sansa looks at her with curiosity. 

“Do you remember that story I told you about the sailor from Essos I befriended?” 

Sansa can feel her cheeks blush as she bites her lip and nods. 

Myranda giggles in response, “Well this is a copy of that book and a few other trinkets that may come in handy.” 

“I’m Intrigued,” Jaime interjects. 

Myranda lowers her voice, “you have no idea.” 

“I must ask." Jaime adds, "what is your interest in Addam?” 

Sansa thinks she may see a faint blush on Myranda’s cheeks, interesting. 

“Addam is a gentleman,” Myranda answers with a smirk. 

“Addam will be Lord of Ashmark after his father,” Jamie offers. 

Lord Nestor Royce’s head snaps toward the conversation. 

Jamie continues, “Addam seems taken with you in a way I am unfamiliar with seeing in him before. If your father were to approve perhaps we could extend an invitation for you to visit us at Casterly Rock and you two could become better acquainted.” 

Lord Royce is already nodding his head. 

Jaime smiles back at her and she can't help but lean into him. 

The gifts continue. Lady Waynwood gifts them each a thick fur cowl, hat and gloves to keep them warm now that the snows have begun. A practical gift from a practical woman. The cousins Waynwood gift her a small elegant dagger for her wrist and the promise that they will come to her aid if she ever calls. Soon there is a pile of gifts on the table, furs, jewels, spices, lace and weapons. She is thankful the steward has recorded them all diligently so she may nurture these beginnings of friendship into allies. 

Harry approaches with a smug smile. He offers her a lecherous look and presents her with a shallow wooden box painted with the falcon of house Arryn. She opens the top seeing beautiful blue silk and lace. Sansa starts to hold it up then quickly returns it to the box. It is a very short, very thin silk shift, lined with lace in shades of blue and cream. None of which would cover her properly. 

"Jaime," she whispers. Tipping the box just enough to show Jaime the barely-there scandalous piece of clothing. 

He smiles back and whispers to her, "that boy wants to taunt me I see. He wants to be able to picture you in it." 

He smiles and nods at the arse across the table, "Ser Hardyng,” Jamie offers. “Thank you for the lovely gift. I am sure it will be put to good use and I cannot wait to see it rumpled upon my solar floor. You honor me with this gift for my marriage.” 

Harry scowls back in return. 

Jaime leans back into Sansa, "jokes on him. I will be the one enjoying you in that, not him." 

"You are terrible." 

"Here, let's rankle him." Jaime pulls Sansa onto his lap and kisses behind her ear. "Are we done yet?" 

"Nearly," she replies trying to stiffle a giggle as he kisses her neck. "They are going to serve the desserts." 

"I already have plans for dessert," he stands with her in his lap and holds her loosely till her feet touch the floor. She is looking up facing him now, he rests his gold hand on her hip and cups her face, "wife." 

"Husband," she replies. He kisses her deeply and she can hear cheers from the guests. 

"Excuse me please, my wife needs me." 

A few in the crowd laugh at that. She links her arm with his right. They start for the door when Jaime pauses, "almost forgot." He takes the box the arse had gifted them and tucks it under his arm. He raises his voice to be heard over the feast, "thanks again Harry, I mean to enjoy your gift thoroughly." 

"You are a scoundrel," she whispers. 

"Only for you," he replies, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "Now let's make haste." He quickens his step and pushes out of the hall. 

Twice he stops to kiss her and once she pulls on his collar to steal a kiss herself. Soon they tumble into their room. 

..... 

He kicks the door shut and pulls her flush against him. Their kisses start slow and turn heavy and urgent. She starts unbuckling his jerkin and he moves his hand to the ties of her gown. 

"Please," she begs as she paws at his clothes. "I need you husband." Just as she frees the last buckle, he loosens the gown enough and she shimmies out of it as he shrugs off his jerkin. She pulls at the ties of her stays and shrugs out of that too. He pulls off his tunic and her hands run down his bare chest before working on the tie of his pants. 

"What are you wearing?" He asks, his eyes lingering on her form. 

"Almost nothing." 

"I can see that," he pulls her into his chest and kisses her neck. It's cream in color with a few accents of gold. It can hardly be called cloth for its base is sheer and the islets and swirls that make up the lace offer peeks of her skin beneath. Very little of her is actually covered. 

"It's Myrish lace," she hums back. 

"I'm buying bolts of it when we get home. Maybe I should demand it be all you wear." He smiles against her neck, "and here I thought Harry would have my greatest thanks. But this is my favorite."

"You like it?" 

"I love it," he purrs back. His hands slide up the back of her thighs. His left cups her arse bringing them closer together, his golden hand gently stroking her back. "I cannot help but prefer you bare though," he breathes on her neck. 

In a moment he didn't expect she pulls off the lace shift and lets her hands drag down his chest. She slides them down further and back pushing his pants off his hips and squeezing his bare arse. It triggers him to buck into her with a groan. 

"My wolfish wife grows bold," he rumbles in response. He hitches her up into his arms kissing her deeply. 

Her legs wrap around him and she meets him kiss for kiss. "I need you," she sighs. The feel of her skin against his is intoxicating. 

"You have me wife," he struggles out of the pants around his ankles and moves them to the bed. "I'm yours. I'm yours forever." 

"Mine," she answers. She is laid on her back, her hips just resting on the edge of the bed. He is standing at the bedside, his eyes lingering on her curves. "I'm yours, do as you will." 

"Bold words my beautiful wife." He leans down to meet her lips and she bucks into him. 

"Jaime I need…" 

"I know my wolf, I know," he whispers against her lips. He takes her lips in a deep kiss that she answers with vigor. 

Her hands link behind his neck bringing him closer still. Her legs tighten their hold around him and she moans as his cock is hard against her. "Jaime," she pants out squeezing him tighter. His kiss shifts to her neck, "please, please, please," she calls out. 

"You'll get everything you want," he mumbles pecking kisses across her chest. 

She lets out a breathy moan as his lips close around her nipple. "Jaime," she moans as her body arches against his. Her hand finds his hair and pulls, "more. Please."

"More," he repeats back against her breast, like he'd stop. One more good suck and he starts pecking kisses down again. He pauses, "you're going to have to let me go lovely," his hand sides to her thighs in an attempt to free himself. 

"No," she objects, squeezing him tighter. Then she pouts, "no more teasing. I've waited all day. I need you now." 

"As you wish," he presses a kiss between her breasts. "Are you ready for another lesson?" 

"There's more?" She asks. 

"If you want it," he smiles back, moving to take her lips with his. 

"I do," she answers, "I want it all." 

"Turn over," he whispers the command in her ear, then backs away a hair to see her reaction. 

"On my belly?" She asks with surprise in her eyes. 

"Close, hands and knees." He answers kissing her lips and unwrapping her legs from him. 

She looks at him skeptically, but follows his direction. "Like this?" She asks, wiggling her arse side to side. 

"You'll like it I promise." He positions on his knees behind her, his left hand finds the curve of her waist and he follows it to the flare of her hip. He grits his teeth as he sees the scars across her back, someone will pay. He leans forward over her and pecks a kiss to the beginning and end of each scar. He wasn't lying before, there is beauty here. Beauty in the scars left on his wife. Beauty in her strength. 

He's caught off guard and let's a small moan escape when she rocks back into him. "Tricky, tricky wife. You are trouble " 

"Well you are a tease, making your wife wait," she sasses back. 

He gives her bum a light swat, "good things come to those who wait." He presses himself to her but doesn't enter her yet. "I have an idea," he mumbles. 

She groans in disappointment but he continues. 

"All good things," he mumbles back. He positions his knees on each side of hers, letting his length settle between her thighs as he pulls her up to kneel. "Remember the bath?" He purrs in her ear. His right arm snakes around her, his golden hand holding her back to his chest. He begins to rock forward gently, his length just grazing her entrance and her thighs creating some rather delicious sensations for him. His left hand catches hers and he places it on her breast directing her to cup and squeeze it. 

"Oh… I remember." She sighs as his fingertips slowly trace down her belly, leaving her to play with her own breast. "This was lovely, but not new." 

"More to come my wolf, I swear." He thinks to wet his fingertips first but he can feel how wet she is with every slide of his cock. She lets out a breathy sigh as he finds her clit and he whispers, "there she is." 

He feels her begin to rock with him, letting him guide the pace but stopping short and resisting the end of each thrust making him groan. He increases his pressure of small circles on her clit until she groans with every press of his hips. "My wife, my love," he whispers against her ear, sucking her earlobe in her mouth. 

Her short breaths turn to pants and he can feel her pulsing under his fingers. "Now my wolf, let it out." He feels her stiffen first, then her back arches. She lets out a deep moan he swears he can feel in his cock. "There it is," he growls against her neck. Her voice breaks then, more high-pitched as she pants out his name. As her cries start to quiet and her body loosens he guides her back down. His right arm slides down to hold her hips in place as her cheek rests on the bed. 

"Not quite done, wife," he whispers. 

"More," she breathes back. He's not sure if it's a statement or a question. 

He enters her slowly now, giving her time to pull away. She's a wolf though and as he starts to rock forward more with each pass, she begins to rock back into him. "Fuck, Sansa yes." 

He straightens his back and both his hands real and gold hold her hips. "Sansa," growls. 

"More," she keeps, "harder." 

Gods be good there's no way he could say no. He pistons harder into her, as her gasps turn into moans. 

"Sansa, Sansa…" he groans through his teeth trying to hold back until she comes one more time." 

"Jaime, Jaime, Jaime," she whines. 

Then he feels her body clench around him tight, pulsing as she moans out his name. He pistons faster, unable to tear his eyes away from where he disappears inside her. Two more thrusts and he chokes out a roar, nearly stealing his breath. Still rocking into her, he pushes forward letting them lower to the bed. He rolls onto his right side, holding her tight against him. He can still feel her walls gently pulsing around him. 

When he half catches his breath he whispers in her ear, "that was fantastic." 

"Yes," she agrees slightly breathless her hip almost swaying against him. Both her arms wrap around his holding him close like something precious. 

"New is good," she offers. 

"New is very good," he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed another chapter together.  
> I do think the Vale has been sorted out now. They will actually leave in the next chapter.  
> Thank you everyone for reading, this story has grown into more than I ever expected. I appreciate all your lovely and supportive comments. Thanks again.


	14. Like A Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With one stroke the deed was done… the kingdom was free. A mercy really. But with that strike the Golden knight was damned. He held his head high and proud, but if you look very close, his eyes show his pain. His torment. His most noble act was deemed treason; though it was cheered in the streets. After all that, the Golden knight bent the knee and bowed his head. He gave up his honor to save the kingdom and they hated him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamie continues to learn new things about his wife everyday. The first day of travel is all smiles and excitement. The wonder on her face of the world around her is intoxicating. She wants to know the name of every pass, hill and stream. It's adorable, even if it gets a bit annoying. Jaime may never tell her he made up half of it just to see her eyes light up with wonder. But… she made him see it too. All the wonder of the world. The beauty of everything around him seems more palpable with her near. 

Sandor is the first to break and scolds her for chirping, Jamie couldn't help but agree. Though he kept it to himself after the glare she sent Sandor. 

"There is nothing wrong with noticing the beauty in the world… seeing the good." She flicks her braid back and turns to Sandor then, "you should try it." 

"What beauty?" Sandor grumbles back, "all I see are trees and fucking snow." 

"Sandor lad, don't pretend like you can't see it," Addam chimes in. He reaches for Sansa's hand. 

_"She walks in beauty, like the night_

_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_And all that's best of dark and bright_

_Meet in her aspect and in her eyes:_

_Thus mellowed to that tender light_

_Which heaven to gaudy day denies_

Addam smiles at Sansa and kisses her hand gently. 

Sansa blushes prettily, with a whisper, "thank you. That is truly beautiful." 

"Not as lovely as my Lady," Addam drawls. 

"Get away from my wife you scoundrel," Jaime interjects. 

Addam laughs smiling back at Sansa before teasing Jaime. "Someone's got to woo your wife." He encourages his horse to a canter and out of Jaime's reach. 

Jaime starts grumbling under his breath, "I woo her too." He moves his horse closer beside Sansa's. 

"Of course you do darling," Sansa soothes Jaime. "I thought it was a lovely poem though." 

…

The first night in camp he found another problem. Well it was only sort of a problem. One he is sure he is capable of mastering. He had to stay away late, to meet with the commanders. Long after she had escaped to their tent to wash and prepare for bed. 

He came into their room, well at least as much as a sectioned off tent can ever truly be a room. Her eyes light up instantly, but then her lips quickly turn into a pout when his valet follows him in to help him doff his armor. He watches her cross her arms and sulk while subtlety watching him undress. When she bits her lip as he shrugs out of his jerkin he waves the man from the room. He toes off his boots and pulls off his shirt as he stalks to her with a grin. He manages to be completely naked before crawling up the bed to her. 

She has the fur pulled up to her chin and looks at him scandalized. "Jaime… we can't." 

He sits astride her and leans down for a kiss. "Can't what?" He asks.

"I can't have your men thinking I'm wanton," she whispers. Her lips still meeting his in a distracted kiss between her words. "I'm to be their Lady." 

"You are their Lady regardless. I for one don't mind if they think _my Lady_ is wanton. I think they will be quite proud their Lord has such a vivacious and passionate woman on his arm." He rocks his hips into her and starts to suck gently on her neck. 

"But-" she sighs as he kisses back up her neck and along her jaw, before finding her lips again. "-it can be so loud." 

He's won her over already, he's sure of it. "Not likely as loud as you think," he purrs in her ear. Just a little lie. She's probably not as loud as she thinks... but nearly. She sighs again and he smiles through the kiss. 

"Truly?" She answers, all breathy. Her hands let go of the furs and find his shoulders. 

"You'll see," he answers with a kiss. "We'll be quiet," two more kisses. "And go slow," three kisses. "You can be quiet as a mouse." 

"Yes," she whispers back. "That sounds good. Lovely even." She pushes on his chest and tips her hips and they roll over, now she's astride him tangled in the sheets. 

He pats her ass, "up darling." She raises up on her knees and he pulls the sheets and furs from between them. As she settles against him he can feel her heat against his cock. She's bare under the short shift. He thinks to suggest she just sleep naked, but one hurdle at a time. Her hands map out his chest as he plays with the hem of her shift. Then it dawns on him what she's wearing. It's a lovely blue, a few shades lighter than her eyes… and lined with cream colored lace. 

"Harry's gift," he tugs at it again with a smile. "Are you dreaming of him or me in your bed?" He taunts. 

"You of course, my handsome husband." She smiles then leaning down to whisper in his ear, "the Kingslayer. The Golden Knight. The only man in the kingdom brave enough to vanquish the mad dragon. How could I ever dream of another?" 

"How? How do you do that?" He asks. He sits up with her still in his lap and cradles her cheek with his left hand. "How do you take an insult and make it sound like a song? Like a fairytale?" 

She smiles at him and meets his eyes. "It's easier than you think. You must ignore the rumors and lies. The Golden Knight swore an oath to protect the rightful King and his kingdom." 

"I…" Jaime starts. 

She holds a finger to his lips. "That Golden Knight was witness to the King's descent into madness. The Mad King committed terrible atrocities that brought the kingdom to near ruin. Chaos and fire ruled, reason and restraint all but forgotten. The Golden Knight suffered in silence. He did his duty." She shifts in his lap, cupping his face she gently rubs the tip of her nose to his. "Then the King's son betrayed his wife and stole away with another man's betrothed. The North called for justice but the King only answered with fire and pain. The kingdom seemed all but lost. No hope, no savior." 

He can't help but look down. How can she? 

She leans forward and rests her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms tight around him, holding him tight. The tone of her voice drops to something more somber. "The Golden Knight was at war with himself… obey his vows or slay the villain the whole kingdom fears." She pauses and presses a soft kiss just below his ear. "With one stroke the deed was done… the kingdom was free. A mercy really. But with that strike the Golden Knight was damned. He held his head high and proud. But if you look very close, his eyes show his pain. His torment. His most noble act was deemed treason, though it was cheered in the streets. After all that the Golden Knight bent the knee and bowed his head. He gave up his honor to save the kingdom and they hated him for it." 

His mind is racing. He can hardly keep his breath. "How?" He mumbles out. He holds her close, squeezing her tighter, his eyes start to water. 

"It's the truth," she answers. "I know it hurts you." 

"Sansa," he buries his face into her hair.

"I told you it was a song," she answers. Her hands rubbing his back. 

"A song?" He offers. He keeps his voice low as a whisper and she doesn't move a muscle. "I… uh, he threatened to burn the city. He ordered the pyromancers to light the caches of wildfire that would leave King's Landing as ashes." 

"Jaime…" she whispers, "I didn't know." 

"After... it didn't seem to matter, no one asked me why. They all just thought the worst of me." 

"No one knows?" 

"I told Brienne," he answers quietly. 

"Brienne?" 

"She… she's a knight… of sorts. I traveled with her a time. When your mother released me, Brienne was to return me to King's Landing in exchange for you and your sister. I… ah… I swore an oath to see you safely returned to her… I failed." 

"I'm safe. Am I not?" 

"Yes," he admits. "I doubt this is what she pictured." 

"A brave knight, a Lord even, from a powerful house. A good man. That is exactly what she wanted for me," Sansa answers. "She may not have chosen you… but I did. I do." 

"I'd doubt she'd see it that way." 

"Well the choice has been made regardless and I'm happier for it." She shifts in his lap. "I can't believe you never told your father? My father? You told no one else of the Mad King's plan?" She asks, still holding him tight. 

"No, they never asked," he answers. 

"I should have asked," she offers. 

"No," he squeezes her back. "You believed in me without an explanation. Somehow you just believed I had a reason. How can you have faith in me like that?" 

She presses a kiss behind his ear and whispers, "you killed the Mad King. A tyrant, what more is there to know. If you would have taken the crown, I might question your motives. But… you got nothing but heartache from it." 

He shudders just a little. "How do you… how do you know me? How do you do that?" His voice feels rough in his throat. "How do you understand?" 

"You are good my love." One of her hands card through his hair and the other rubs on his back. "All I've seen is good." 

"I've done terrible things," he rasps. 

"I know," she answers. "But you are good and we can be better. I know you want that."

"I do," he answers. "It's alI want. I'm done with the crown. Done with the King's Landing. I want you and our family and the West." 

"Then make it so," she answers. "We will make a life of our own." 

"I don't deserve you," he backs away and looks into her eyes. 

"I think you do," she presses a short kiss to his lips. Then another and another. "That's all that matters, no one else. Just me and you." She presses more kisses and leans in to him. 

"I am yours and you are mine," he whispers between kisses. 

"I am yours and you are mine," she answers. 

"Now… I have need of my wife," he growls. He encourages to rock in his lap. His hand slides up under the skirt to rest on her waist, guiding her movements. 

She hums and rocks into him. "Make love to me," she asks. 

"Of course… love." He repeats with a kiss, "I will make love to my wolfish wife." 

She just hums back.

His heart softens for her everyday. The little stolen moments, the touches of affection. She's lovely, he thinks. Cheeks flushed, lips pink and swollen from kisses. Her hair is braided back but whisps have escaped and now frame her face. He's caught up in watching her and is slow to notice her move and angle herself to take him inside her. She's so warm and wet he groans and his hips buck up in response. 

"Did I surprise you?" She whispers, her voice low with restraint. She pushes him back and plants both her hands on his chest to brace herself. 

"Lost in the moment I'm afraid," he answers. His hand on her hip starts to guide her movements, forward then down, up and away before down again. "A fantasy of a beautiful princess as my bride… only I'm lucky enough for it to be true." 

She smiles at him, then her head tips back as she sighs. He can see her bite her lip as she rides him. He lowers his left hand to stroke that her pearl. "Come on my wolf, harder." He thrusts up into her with the rhythm she's already set, "take your pleasure from me. It's yours." 

She groans and bites her lip again, her right hand raises up into her hair loosening more fiery waves from the braid. He can feel her start to flutter around him as she stifles the sound of her moan into heavy sighs. 

Well that won't do. He lets her take it though, that slow gentle climax. He grits his teeth though and counts backwards to not spend himself as she takes her pleasure from him. Her heat clamps down around him as a low, slow moan escapes her lips. Good but she deserves more and damn it he's going to give it to her. He sits up to meet her lips in a hungry kiss. His hand finds her ass and holds her against him. 

"Lovely," he growls, nibbling at her lip. 

He tips her back then. She's relaxed, almost languid against him. His cock slides out of her and she whines at the loss. She blinks up at him and he swears he can see all the rest of his life in her eyes. He kisses her deeply as he settles his body against her and she keens. He catches her right hand and brings it to his mouth. He sucks on her first and middle finger gently before turning it in his hand and directing it to drag down her neck to finally rest over her breast. He pecks another kiss to her lips, then begins to press wet kisses down her body. Her neck, her breasts, her belly all get the same attention. He presses a kiss just above her curls when she must surmise his intent. 

"Jaime I already-" she groans out the last word as his tongue finds her cunt. "Jaime," she whines and shudders. Her hips start to rock, "Jaime, Jaime… please." 

She's swollen against his lips. The pants and sighs coming from her tell him it won't be long, but the effort is well worth it. He rocks into the bed, his hips almost guiding his tongue's rhythm. He can feel her thighs start to quiver, he lets the fingers of his left hand enter her adding to her pleasure. He can hear her breath start to hitch, her voice just a little higher than before. He hums against her pearl and sucks and she moans out low and long. 

He smiles, someone heard that. He continues as her pants start to slow, her cunt just pulsing around his fingers now. He moves quickly then. One last kiss to her pearl, before he's quickly claiming her lips as his cock slides back into her heat. 

"Sansa," he growls. So fucking good. 

"Jaime, Jaime," she answers between heavy kisses that taste of her cunt. "Oh Gods," she cries. Her legs wrap around his hips tight and her nails dig into his back. 

He's trying to keep his rhythm. He succeeds, but barely. But when she moans against his lips and her cunt grips his cock his control is gone. He thrusts hard and erratic, but the bliss is so close. Then it's there, every nerve in his body is on fire with pleasure and it's all he can do to keep from passing out. He collapses against her. She squeezes him tighter with her legs, her hands are mapping his back and he swears he can hear their hearts beat as one. He lingers there not wanting to seperate from the embrace. 

When his cock finally softens and slips from her, he rolls on his back pulling her closer. Her head rests on his shoulder as he kisses her hair. "Mine, _my_ little wolf." 

She sighs sounding almost asleep, "my golden lion." 

He wakes later. His head pillowed on her chest. Her arms around him. His hand finds her waist and with a smile sleep takes him away again. Gods he's falling in love. 

...

"Fucking lions," Sandor's grumbling expletives. "Fucking golden bastard," he mumbles to himself as he prepares his horse. 

"What's wrong with you?" Jaime asks.

"Some of us don't have a wife to fuck all night," he mocks. "Some of us value our fucking sleep." 

"Ah, you heard that?" Jaime taunts. 

"I think the whole fucking camp heard you," Sandor argues. "Can you be any louder?"

"Well," Jaime looks up at him with a smirk, "I could try." 

"Fucking hells," Sandor grumbles stalking away. 

Jaime can't hold back the laugh. "I'm nothing if not diligent in my efforts." 

"What was Sandor talking about?" 

_Shit_. "Umm." 

Sansa scowls and stalks over to him and shakes her finger at him. "He heard us didn't he?" She accuses under her breath.

Jaime grins back at her, "maybe." 

"He did," she growls. She turns and starts waving her hands around in frustration as she whines quietly. "He heard us Jaime… what will they think?" 

He closes the distance to her and holds her from behind, kissing her neck. "They will think I am enjoying my wife. They will think my wife is enjoying me." She turns and looks up into his eyes with furrowed brows. "They will think I please my wife. _They_ will think we are happy."

She smiles up at him then, "I am happy," she answers quietly. She strokes the line of his jaw with the back of her hand before brushing her fingers through his hair. 

"What's so wrong with a wife enjoying her marriage bed?" He asks. He's still holding her just letting them sway back and forth. 

"Nothing I suppose… just a Lady-" 

"Do you want me to stop pleasing you?" He interupts. Then he lowers his voice and whispers against her ear, "do you want me to stop making you come apart?" 

She kisses his chin, "no." 

"Then maybe it's the Ladies who should be more like you." 

She hums back like she's considering it. 

"I for one do not want to stop," he kisses her neck. "Once we are at the Rock we can spend some time alone together, truly. Rooms and rooms all to ourselves." 

"Every night in a soft warm bed?" She asks. 

"Of course," he replies. "Only the best for you." 

"With my husband beside me?" 

He smiles back rakishly and whispers in her ear, "I plan on being _inside_ of you." 

"Terrible you are," she scolds gently. 

"You love it," he counters. He raises her chin so their eyes meet. His arms wrap around her lifting her onto her toes. 

"I do," she whispers against his lips. Her hands linking behind his neck. 

He meets her in a passionate kiss. Her body melts into his and it's as if they are the only two people in Westeros. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been nearly two months since my last update. I tried so hard, but it wasn't ready, wasn't done. I have the chapter now and two others that are quickly forming so hopefully not nearly as long fir the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> The poem Addam recites is a part of 'She Walks in Beauty' by Lord Byron.


	15. Wearing Thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Darling," Jaime whispers in her ear. "It's time to wake up." Sansa managed to wrap herself in the furs with only her feet sticking out. She feels warm and relaxed, and she's not keen to give it up. 
> 
> "No," Sansa huffs. She buries her face under his chin and pulls the furs tighter around her. "It's a feather bed, and it's lovely, and soft and _warm_. I'm staying here… maybe forever."
> 
> "Darling," he smiles at her pouting. "We must get you dressed, the sun is nearly up." 
> 
> "No," she rolls over and buries her head in the pillow. "It will rise again tomorrow and the day after," her voice muffled by the pillow. "What's the difference?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the weeks press on, the travel wears on everyone. Addam entertains himself poking at Jaime and Sandor with verbal jabs and reciting poetry to Sansa, much to Jaime's dismay. Sandor gets short and snappy. He takes out his frustrations in the practice ring against any man brave enough to stand against him. Corbrey seems to be one of his favorite targets. Corbrey is a good sport though, he handles the big man's assaults better than Jaime thought him capable. Willem and Olin, Sansa's two sworn guards have their share of dents in their armor too. Sandor insists on _testing_ them on a regular basis. 

Travel is wearing on Sansa too. She hides it well behind a smile and kind words, but her laughter is harder to find and the fast pace of travel leaves her quiet and tired. She doesn't whine or complain but one morning, she's just had enough. 

….

"Darling," Jaime whispers in her ear. "It's time to wake up." Sansa managed to wrap herself in the furs with only her feet sticking out. She feels warm and relaxed, and she's not keen to give it up. 

"No," Sansa huffs. She buries her face under his chin and pulls the furs tighter around her. "It's a feather bed, and it's lovely, and soft, and _warm_. I'm staying here… maybe forever."

"Darling," he smiles at her pouting. "We must get you dressed, the sun is nearly up." 

"No," she rolls over and buries her head in the pillow. "It will rise again tomorrow and the day after," her voice muffled by the pillow. "What's the difference?"

"We've come so far already," he argues. He fumbles under the furs until he finds her skin and lets his fingertips trace the lines of her shoulder to her hip. 

"Exactly," she grumbles back. "It's been ages," she sighs. 

"I've already sent the raven," he offers. "We are expected." 

"Expected to sleep on the cold ground and expected to hear Sandor snoring in the tent beside us. Expected to ride a horse all day. No I'm done… I'm staying here." She challenges still talking into her pillow. 

" _My father_ is expecting us." 

"Your father… please," she huffs. "If you think you can rely on my courtesies to get me moving you are wrong ser. Wrong. Your father will hate me." 

"Why may I ask is that?" 

"I'm a Stark," she answers bluntly like her point has been made. 

He scootes to her in the bed behind her and kissing her shoulder. "You my darling are a Lannister. Did you forget? Must I marry you _again_."

She uncovers her head to roll her eyes at him.

"What," he laughs. "He doesn't hate Starks." 

She narrows her eyes at him, "my father?" 

"He was difficult and uncompromising. My father didn't hate him, just… a… thought he was a bit obtuse." He kisses her shoulder again and smiles, his fingers tracing patterns at the dip of her waist. 

She glares back at him over her shoulder. 

"It's true though. He was a decent enough man," he continues. "But stupid mistakes were made for the sake of honor. A bit judgemental too." 

"My father always said whatever a person says before the word _but_ doesn't matter." 

He shrugs. " _But_ you are mine, no matter what my father thinks." 

"My mother?" She counters. 

"She abducted his son, a direct insult to our house. He didn't even do what she accused him off," he argues back. 

"Robb?" 

He drops his head. "He didn't hate Robb. Robb, he could have dealt with. Robb was reasonable… at least until your father was killed." 

"No, thank you. I refuse. I am ordering us to stay here, in this lovely Inn and rest." 

"Oh, it's an order now," Jaime teases his hand tracing the bottom curve of her breast. He shifts closer pressing himself against her back. He kisses her neck twice and whispers in her ear, "what if I decide to tickle my wife until she complies with _my_ order?" 

"You wouldn't dare," she growls. 

"Wouldn't I?" He teases. Ghosting his fingers down her ribs and onto her hip. He leans forward and kisses her neck gently. 

She turns in his arms to face him with a coy look on her face. "I may just kiss my husband until he complies with my orders." She presses a kiss to his lips and teases them with her tongue. 

"That's not much of a threat," he purrs. He lets his hand slide down to her hips and pulls her closer. His fingers dip down to her hip, she is bare under the furs and he smiles. "You've convinced me already."

"Have I?" She kisses him across his brow before he ducks his head to suck on her neck. "This trip is exhausting, how much longer must we press on?" 

"Well," he pauses his kisses, "two days until the outskirts of Riverrun." He moves further down and sucks her nipple into his mouth. 

"Riverrun?" She asks with a gasp. 

"Yes, that's what I said," he scolds jokingly. He pecks light kisses across her breast and back up to her neck. "Then three more days to the Golden Tooth, where we will be firmly in the West." 

"I've never been to the West," she lets her hand drag down his chest and stomach. 

"Sansa," he scolds as her hand slides around his cock. 

"What?" She answers innocently. Starting to stroke his length. She presses two kisses to his jaw. "Are you scolding me for showing my husband some affections?" 

"Sansa," he whines. "Are you trying to distract me?" 

"Is it working?" She asks. 

"Yes, I can't remember what you're trying to distract me from." 

"Then why worry?" She teases and leans into a kiss. "A nice warm bed and kisses, what could be better?" She pushes him onto his back and straddles him. 

His hands find her hips, "not so tired now are we?" 

Her smile falls and her eyes narrow. "Fine you dreadful husband I'll get up." She throws the furs back and starts to climb off his lap. 

He catches her hips, "Sansa darling, don't be cross." He lets his hips just rock slightly underneath her. He sits up and lets left hand stroke her cheek then trail down her neck and along her shoulder. "Don't give up negotiations so quickly." He offers a smug smile and a kiss, "you still very much have the upper-hand." 

"Are you implying I sit," she rocks in his lap, "in a position of power?" 

"Darling I am at your mercy," he whispers, letting their noses just touch. He takes her lips in a hungry kiss. 

She leans into him and whispers in his ear, "I don't want to give you mercy… I want to give you pleasure." She licks his earlobe and then sucks it in her mouth. He groans in response. She drags her teeth across it as she lets it go. 

He smirks, "then we have accord." 

"Yes," she answers with a gasp as she rocks her body against his. 

"Then let's begin," he growls. He leans back away from her leaving her to chase his kiss. As she follows he shifts, pulling her to him as he turns, ending up with him hovering above her on the bed. 

"Jaime," she sighs, breaking the kiss for a breath. Her hands finding his back tracing the muscles there. She looks up meeting his eyes… they glitter like emeralds. He's going to taunt and tease her, leave her begging for his touch, for release. 

"Sansa, my wolf," he purrs as he buries his head in her hair and kisses her neck. 

He has that cocky tone, she does love what that implies, but she has her own tricks now too. Her hands slide down to grip his arse, pulling him into her as she rocks forward. "My knight… my husband," she coos. 

His eyes snap up to hers, his lips whisper, "my wife." Then his kisses turn heavy and demanding. 

"Husband," she answers. She wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him against her. "My husband… please," she demands. 

"Anything … wife," he insists. 

He pulls away slightly and she whines. Then she feels it, his length… his cock against her entrance. 

"Please," she pleads. 

He slowly enters her. She squeezes her legs around him and they both groan in response. 

"Sansa, Sansa, Sansa," he chants. 

His rhythm is steady as he kisses her lips again. She's panting between kisses. She squeezes him again her legs wrapping tighter and he growls his approval, his pace harder and faster. She can't bite back the small moans with each of his thrusts. 

"Yes, yes… please," she cries. Her hands scramble along his back, her fingers pressing into his skin to hold on as she falls. Her voice goes higher and she's just teetering on the edge. She squeezes her legs one more time pulling herself her against him and that's all it takes. A low moan escapes her lips, her back arches and she feels her heat pulse around him. She pulls him closer and every moves he makes just extends her pleasure until she shutters and cries out. 

"Gods yes," he mutters but she can barely hear the words. 

His pace turns furious as he groans into her neck. Then he stills against her lost in his own release. She smiles, his breath warm against her neck. She lets her fingers card through his hair savoring the moment. 

"Now I want a nap," he mumbles. Shifting against the sheets to his side, his head resting on her chestl. 

"I feel revitalized," she smiles. "I'm ready now." She moves like to get up. 

He pulls her in closer against him, "I need five minutes… maybe ten. He shifts and nuzzles his head under her chin. "It's not like there going to leave without us." 

She holds back a laugh and just strokes his hair. "Of course… husband." 

That evening...

It's after sundown, Jaime is standing at the table with Addam and his commanders. He's impatiently discussing the next day's plan, hoping to get to his wife before she falls asleep. There are some shouts outside, Jaime sends Addam out to investigate. A few minutes later Sandor comes barreling through the tent's flap muttering curses. He pushes a man forward. The man's hands are tied behind his back and Sandor's hand is clamped around his neck. 

"Got you a present," Sandor growls as he pushes the man to his knees. "A gift from your sister." 

"What's this?" Jaime asks. Looking first to Sandor then Addam for answers. 

"Found him sniffing around the Lady's tent," Sandor answers. "They cut a hole in the tent, didn't expect a big fucker like me to be there waiting for him." 

"Where is she?" 

"I'm here," Sansa answers, ducking through the flaps after Willem and Corbrey, each with a prisoner of their own pushed to their knees. Olin follows her in watching the men suspiciously. Sansa moves to Jaime's side, he tucks her in close. 

"Are you well?" He whispers against her hair. 

"I am fine," she answers, "I had Sandor with me." 

"Rabid fucking dog-" the man on his knees spits. 

Sandor pushes him down into the dirt, pressing him into the ground with his boot. "There's a Lady present," he growls, "watch your fucking mouth." 

"Let him up," Jaime orders. 

Sandor pulls him up by his collar. The man's kneeling again, his face is dirty, his nose is broken and his teeth are stained red. The flayed man is prominent on his chest. Jaime looks toward the other two prisoners as well, they seem to have suffered similar injuries. 

"Not very pretty are they?" Jaime offers. 

"Nah," Sandor cackles back. "I may have helped that a bit." 

"Give me the girl," the man hisses through his teeth. 

Jaime grins smugly at him and asks innocently, "what girl?" 

"I was promised a reward, the oldest Stark girl," he snears. "I was promised Winterfell and the Dreadfort."

"That's a shame," Jaime answers looking at Sansa and raising her hand to kiss her fingers. He lets his eyes to meet the bastard Bolton. The man has cold eyes… untrustworthy. He needs to be cautious with him. 

"The North is mine," the bastard spits. 

"Is it?" Jaime answers back and watches the man's nostrils flare. This man's temper is short, he doesn't like disrespect. It becomes obvious to Jaime exactly what buttons to push. 

"See I thought it was Roose Bolton who holds Winterfell. Who are you anyway? I see the flayed man on your chest. I was under the impression Domeric Bolton was handsome and charming." Jaime lifts his chin looking closely at the man's face, "clearly that's not you. Oh yes, I remember now... the Bolton heir died going on three years ago." 

"I _am_ the heir to the Dreadfort," the man spits. 

"Oh yes, Roose remarried… but just recently. You seem rather large for a babe?" Jaime tips his head from side to side as if assessing the man across from him. 

"I am the heir."

"Who was your mother?" Jaime taunts. 

The bastard shakes his head,, "I was made legitimate by the crown." 

"Oh a bastard made Lord," Jaime mocks. He starts to pace in front of the man. "That rarely ends well. What are you going to do when your fathers Frey wife whelps? The Frey's are nothing if not fertile. How long do you think you will last when a legitimate heir is born, and his brothers? They may not want a bastard as their Lord." 

"Shut up," the man hisses. "I am Ramsey Bolton." 

"Ah, Ramsey Bolton. Hmm that doesn't sound right. Ramsey Snow, yes I remember that too." Jaime taunts. 

"Not a Snow," he growls. He tries to force himself to feet but Sandor just tightens his hold on his neck.

Jaime can't help but smirk as the man loses his cool. "Once a Snow, always a Snow," he offers back. 

"Give me Sansa Stark," Ramsey growls. He stares at Sansa. 

"No," Jaime answers simply. He returns to Sansa's side and presses a soft kiss to her temple. 

The man's eyes flash with rage. 

"You are too late, I married her myself. Princess Sansa is a Lannister now, far out of your reach… bastard." 

"Then I'll marry a widow and have the bitch in my bed," he snaps back. "You can't deny me!" 

Sandor squeezes his neck and shakes him like a ragdoll. 

Jaime smiles at him but as his hand rests on the pommel of his sword. He moves to stand in front of the bastard, he looks down at him. Jaime speaks slowly, "do you know who I am?" 

"A fucking cripled lion," the bastard answers spitting with rage. 

Good, Jaime thinks. Jaime holds up his right hand examining it. Then shrugs. He smiles confidently back at the Bolton bastard. "No Ser, you are mistaken." Jaime pauses and Sansa steps in to place beside him pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

The bastard looks surprised at his response. 

Jaime leans forward like to tell a secret. His voice a low growl, "I am Jaime Lannister." 

The bastard scowls at him. 

Jaime raises his voice as a proclamation,"I am Jaime Lannister. I am _the fucking Lion_. I am the Lord of Casterly Rock. I am the Warden of the West." He pauses and lets his smile change from smug to feral. 

Sansa did this. Sansa is the reason he can do this. With her faith in him, he will own everything he is. "I am the Kingslayer." He pauses again and lets his eyes settle on the bastard. "If I would kill a King, what I ask, would I do to a bastard who threatens my wife?" 

The bastard pales. 

He says the last bit low, the bastard has to lean in to hear it, "I'll answer you simply... terrible, terrible things." 

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," the bastard bites back. 

"And you know only a fraction of what I am capable of… try me. I dare you." He feels stronger than ever, Sansa wraps her arms around his. He then whispers, "I'll never let her go." 

"Cersei-" the bastard starts. 

"Cersei," Jaime laughs. "Cersei has no power here. No power over the West and certainly no power over me. The West will no longer support the folly that is the crown." 

"You'll pay for this," the man hisses back. 

Jaime smiles back, "oh I intend to pay all my debts." He turns to Sansa and kisses her gently. "I will collect what's due as well." 

"You can't hurt us," Ramsey threatens, his voice shaky. "We move on the order of the crown. There is an army on it's way… you can't stand against the crown so far from home." 

"You are under the order of the crown?" Jaime asks. 

A smug smile crosses the bastard's face. 

"But you move against the West. You were going to take her the Lady of Lannister… you would take my wife." 

"I'll have her yet… bloody and broken," the man answers with a hiss. 

Jaime lurches for him, Addam grabs him by the arm pulling him back. Sansa places her hands on his chest trying to soothe him. 

His smile now full of malice and focused on Sansa, "she's a sweet one… bet she tastes sweet. I'll make her scream-" 

Sandor brings an elbow down on the man's head and he goes slack in Sandor's grip. "Mouthy fucker," he growls. 

Jaime's nostrils are flaring and he's stiff with rage. He's growling threats and he sees nothing but red. Sansa fumbling with his jerkin to get his attention. "They will answer in blood," Jaime growls. "Sandor, take them away." 

"Jaime… _husband_ ," Sansa whispers, his eyes are still locked on the prisoners as they are drug out. "Husband… _my love_ ," his eyes snap to her. She smiles as she cups his jaw and repeats… _my love_. I am here… I am safe." She pecks a kiss to his jaw. 

"Sansa," he whispers as his hands find her hips. He lowers his head to take her lips in a kiss. " _My love,_ he whispers against her lips. His hands smoothing her hair down her back. 

Addam leans into Jaime, "there will be more. He said there's an army on their way. They attempted to kidnap her, they will not be subtle next time. They will come in force, we must be ready." 

"I won't give her up," Jaime whispers back, holding Sansa tighter. 

"Then we must be ready. We must increase our scouts and prepare for battle," Addam insists. "We must make haste, we are stronger in the West. The Western armies can meet us there." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter, a bit of fun and conflict. The next chapter is coming together well hopefully it will up soon. 
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who takes the time to read this. I love the support I've gotten fur this fic.  
> Thanks for reading.


	16. Sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is safe, but he has to keep her safe. Jaime's right arm holds her close as his left hand traces over her body. He just relishes the sight, feel and smell of her. 
> 
> "I'm fine," she whispers against his lips. 
> 
> "I know," he pauses letting his forehead rest against hers. "I just cannot seem to let go…" 
> 
> "Then don't," she answers. "I can stay." 
> 
> "You need your rest," he answers. He breathes her in as he presses a kiss to her temple. 
> 
> "As do you," she replies. 
> 
> "Go," Addam interrupts. "I will send off scouts to find this _army_ that stalks us." 
> 
> "I don't doubt his words," Sansa offers. "Cersei hates me… wants me dead. She will sacrifice everything to punish me." 
> 
> "She cannot have you," Jaime nods as he speaks. He studies every curve of her face. He presses a kiss to her brow and her cheek before pulling her into his chest. "They can't have you, I won't allow it. Not ever." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old thank you to ineedminions who helped my proof and trouble-shoot this chapter so I could finally finish it!!

Jaime

Sansa is safe, but he has to keep her safe. Jaime's right arm holds her close as his left hand traces over her body. He just relishes the sight, feel and smell of her. 

"I'm fine," she whispers against his lips. 

"I know," he pauses letting his forehead rest against hers. "I just cannot seem to let go…" 

"Then don't," she answers. "I can stay." 

"You need your rest," he answers. He breathes her in as he presses a kiss to her temple. 

"As do you," she replies. 

"Go," Addam interrupts. "I will send off scouts to find this _army_ that stalks us." 

"I don't doubt his words," Sansa offers. "Cersei hates me… wants me dead. She will sacrifice everything to punish me." 

"She cannot have you," Jaime nods as he speaks. He studies every curve of her face. He presses a kiss to her brow and her cheek before pulling her into his chest. "They can't have you, I won't allow it. Not ever." 

"I know," she whispers back, her hands clinging to him. 

"We will find them," Addam reassures her. 

Jaime looks up to Addam. "We will wake early… a fast march to Riverrun and collect the scouts information as we go. For now all we can do is move quickly and be vigilant." 

"Consider it done," Addam replies. 

Jaime turns to Addam, "I want those men dead within the hour. They will not see another sunrise." 

"They were under orders of the crown," Addam argues. 

"And they will die serving the crown. The crown ordered the abduction of my wife," Jaime roars back. "Gods know what she would have suffered if that deviant had been successful." 

"Jaime I am safe," Sansa comforts. 

"Too close," he whispers into her hair, "he got far too close." Jaime raises his voice and continues, "they do not fear my wrath… they will." 

"Jaime think it through... a Lord's son," Addam interjects. 

"Did you see him Addam? Did you look into that man's eyes? They are cold and dead. All he craves is violence… and my sister sent him. My sister sent him to extract blood and pain from my wife. My wife Addam. He will not live to see another day." 

"Of course," Addam answers. "I will order a block… Sandor or I-" 

Sansa leans in close and whispers in Jaime's ear, "I would suggest the old way… the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Justice is a duty." 

Jaime pauses before his reply. He nods to Sansa, "I will be the one to end it, to separate his life from his body. He came for _my_ wife. He knows his crime.. Although it seems almost kind to end him so quickly." 

"It is not for him, but a mercy for us to be over and done with," Sansa offers. "Mercy has it's place." 

"The debt must be paid," Jaime answers somberly. Jamie softens his voice and looks to Sansa, "I will take you to our tent-" 

"No," she answers firmly. "I will see it done, I will not cower to threats. He will end and have no place in my fears." 

"As you wish," Jaime agrees, holding her close again. They make their way to edge of camp where the block is. He hears the prisoner's approach he places a kiss to Sansa's temple. 

"What? No-" Jaime hears a prisoner cry out. 

Sandor has the bastard of Bolton by the neck again. He pushes him down onto the block, holding his cheek against the stump. "Stay still or I'll tie you to it. He growls in the bastard's ear, "lucky one you are… if they left you to the me I'd tear you apart piece by piece." 

"I Jaime, Lord of house Lannister, Warden of the West." Jaime pulls his sword from its sheath and focuses on the prisoner. "I sentence you to death." 

"You can't," the Bolton bastard spits. "You can't do this, I am heir to House Bolton." 

There’s no more to it. No pomp, no last words… no pageantry. Jaime brings down his sword once, twice, three times. Once for each of the men who came for his wife. Each life at an end. The deed is done. Addam hands him a cloth and he cleans his sword without a thought in his head. 

Sansa brings him back though. "Jaime," she whispers as her hand touches his cheek. He leans in to her touch. 

"Killing a man in battle… your life or his is one thing," his voice quiet for her ears only. "This, this execution is another." 

"It was justice," she replies. 

"But-" 

"It's not meant to be easy," she offers. "It makes you value life to see it end. To give you pause when you order a death. Sometimes death is a mercy, it is hard to see the difference. She takes his arm and they walk slowly to their tent. 

Jaime's almost in a daze as his valet strips his armor. He turns to Sansa. He sighs longing to hold her. He misses her already, _if this looming battle goes poorly_. He shakes the thought from his head. He washes quickly at the basin before pulling on his bed clothes. He smiles as he approaches the table, her maid is encouraging Sansa to sit and eat as he takes the chair beside her. 

"Thank you," he offers the maid, dismissing her. 

Sansa is nibbling at fruits as he finds her hand. He kisses it gently before tugging her over to sit on his lap. He just holds her close, his head resting against hers calming his thoughts. 

"You must eat," she says softly. She presses a kiss to his cheek. 

"Then feed me," he insists. 

She smiles, "You are terrible," her voice is soft and warm and he feels the love behind her words. He longs to hear this everyday. She takes a bite for every two or three she offers him. She even gives pecks of kisses here and there. She cares for him, body and soul. He will keep her safe, he will ensure it at any cost. He lets his head rest against her and dreams just a little. He dreams of soft kisses, a warm wife, of safety, love and home. 

As they slip into bed he holds her close. Her head tucked under his chin and her hair tickling his neck. He feels her yawn. 

"Sleep my darling," he whispers. "We leave before dawn… marching hard for Riverrun. Rest time will be scarce tomorrow. Sleep my dear… sleep." 

"I understand," she sighs with another yawn. 

He listens to her breaths slow and her body leans into his as she falls into sleep. His hand is absently tracing the lines of her body. His mind wanders into what will be. What could happen… what could go wrong before falling into an uneasy sleep at her side. 

….

Jaime

The next evening as they make camp Jaime reluctantly leaves his wife’s side to meet with Addam. He is tired and weary but it will be well worth it when they are safely in the walls of Riverrun before sundown tomorrow.

“The scouts, what do they report?” Jaime asks. 

“They are Goldcloaks, three regiments strong,” Addam answers. "They have more than double our men." 

Jamie knows there are decisions made today that will make or break their chances. He looks down at the map on the table looking good for a solution. He lets scenarios run through his mind. How to defend these lands. How to minimize loss of life. How to keep her safe. She must be safe. 

"We will still stop at Riverrun," Jaime commands. "We will rest." 

"Jaime we must push west, push hard." Addam disagrees. He moves the marker to where the Goldcloaks were reported to camp. “They are not that far, we must stay ahead of them. If we travel into the night-” 

"The men must rest," Jaime insists. 

"Jaime…" Addam replies ominously. "I'm afraid if we pause for rest we will not make it into the West before the Goldcloaks overtake us." 

"I know," Jaime concedes. 

"They won't dare attack us in our own lands. If we push through…" Addam voices.

Jaime shakes his head. 

"Why?" 

"We can't out run them," he sighs, "even if we run all night and day. We will just be caught tired and with poor footing." 

Addam looks down at the map perplexed, then he sees it. "Fuck it… you're right. We will be marching through the winter marshes and siphoned through two crossings. We can't move with speed." 

"Correct," Jaime agrees. 

"Then we dig in at Riverrun," Addam offers. "We face a siege there-" 

"No… we can't be trapped in Riverrun," Jaime sighs. 

"But it’s a strong fortress, protected on three sides by water." Addam starts. 

"The rations are sparse there. If the small folk are sheltered there for a siege and our men… the castle will be starving in days. These people have suffered enough." 

Addam's eyes go wide. 

"There's a caravan on its way to feed Riverrun… but if we are fortified inside they will never receive it. It's a dangerous time traveling along the Goldroad, I must ensure they get supplies or it will be StormsEnd all over again. I can't let them starve." Jaime knocks his goldhand on the table twice in frustration. 

"Then we stand," Addam states. 

"We do," Jamie agrees. 

Addam eyes linger over the map, "where?" 

Jaime takes a breath. "If we stand here," he points to the map. "It's nearly a day past Riverrun. We will be very close to the western border. This here, this area of elevation will give us a vantage over the field. Our enemy will be forced up the incline, tiring them and slowing a charge. The Forest here will give us cover, this marsh will protect our flank. We haven't seen many scouts from them, they will not know our numbers or positioning. They don't think we have a chance." 

"Do we have a chance?" Addam asks quietly. 

"We are men of the West… not to be underestimated," Jaime answers with confidence. "I sent ravens, I didn't mention it because I wasn't sure-"

"What?" 

"If they received the ravens, men from Lefford, Brax and Lynden will pass through the Golden tooth and cross into the Riverlands-" 

"Who?” Then Addam’s eyes light up with understanding. “The West is coming _here_ to aid us?" 

"Yes. If all goes as planned.”

"But we are in the Riverlands, it will look like an invasion-" 

"Will it?" 

"Yes… the Riverlands…" 

"The Riverlands west of the Kingsroad are under the protection of the West… by order of the crown," Jaime smiles smugly. "These lands belong to me. I was ordered their protector."

Addams eyes widen and he looks at the map in a new light. "That changes everything." 

"It does," Jaime answers. 

"How close are they?" 

"I can't be sure. Not close enough, but they will be marching hard. If I can stall the Goldcloaks… negotiate, they will be able to offer support. The closer we can get to the West… the faster they can bolster our numbers.”

"You have a plan?" 

"I do," Jaime smiles. " _For a lions claws are sharp..."_. 

" _As long and sharp as yours…"_ Addam answers, slapping Jaime on the back. "Your father will be proud. Tell me everything."

….

Sansa

They arrive at Riverrun the next afternoon. The fast pace was exhausting but worth it. Sansa rides close to Jaime as they approach the gates. The Western men garrisoning the castle are in good spirits cheering the Lannisters approach. 

"My Lord Lannister! My Lady!" They shout. 

Jaime takes her hand, leaning in and kissing her knuckles. He whispers between the men's shouts, "the reception will be even louder in the West." 

She just smiles back at him. 

The reception from Edmure though is chilly at best. He flexed what little power he has by refusing to greet them at the gates. They are greeted by the Steward, Marshall, Master of Arms and Maester. Jaime is delayed further by the Captain of the western force for an update. Sansa continues onto the Lord's chambers which she will share with her husband throughout their stay. 

After her maid helps her freshen up and change into a fresh gown she takes a seat on the balcony enjoying the view and a few moments of peace alone with her thoughts. She is tired and weary, but there will be time to rest later. She smiles as she thinks of Jaime, she had thought this would be an alliance of power. Two great houses sacrificing to bring peace between them. It's so much more than that, she has found comfort and understanding by his side faster than she had expected. Happiness even. There is still much to do though.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. She hears Sandor's voice call through the door. "You have a visitor, your uncle Edmure Tully." 

"Please let him in," she answers. 

Sandor opens the door and steps inside before allowing Edmure to enter. 

Edmure turns to Sandor, "you may go now." 

Sandor locks eyes with Edmure and answers, "not fucking likely." He takes position on the right side of the door as Corbrey takes his on the left. 

Edmure turns to her then. "You let him speak to me like that?" 

Sansa smiles gently, "they are merely protecting my person." 

"So you married a _Lannister_ ," he spits like a curse. 

"Oh dearest uncle yes I have," she answers with an overly sweet voice. "I would be happy to receive your congratulations."

"Congratulations," he growls under his breath. "You see that this insult? This man, your husband… he takes the Lord's chambers from me." 

"Dear uncle," she answers seriously, "as I understand it you are no longer the Lord here. The Lord's chambers would be an inappropriate accommodation for you. Are your new chambers unacceptable?"

He just glares back at her. 

"Take a seat, please," she offers. "May I offer you a drink?" 

"Fine," he answers curtly, taking a chair at the table. He turns to glare at her guards. "You even have Lannister dogs trailing you now?" Edmure snaps. "How appropriate." 

Sandor growls, but Sansa smiles and shakes her head. 

"These men are mine and mine alone," Sansa answers confidently. She moves to pour him some wine. 

"If you had any idea the monstrosities the Clegane's reaped upon these lands-" Edmure starts. 

Sansa stops short. Her voice firm, "the _Clegane's_ did nothing. The Mountain and his men made these lands bleed. Do not place that monster's sins at the feet of his brother." 

Edmure looks stunned. 

"Now enough of that," she sets the wine down and nods to him, "how are you?" 

Edmure seems to grit his teeth

There is another knock at the door. Sandor opens it and lets Jaime through. He comes quickly to her side pressing a kiss to her head. 

"Darling," Jaime whispers, pulling a chair over to sit closer to her. 

"Your husband keeps me a prisoner in my own home," Edmure Tully growls in Jaime's direction. 

"Prisoner?" She asks. 

Jaime can hear the impatience in her voice. He leans in and whispers in her ear, "he taunts you. This fool is in for a tongue lashing worthy of the Hound himself, but worded so sweet he may think it a compliment."

She tries to keep a straight face. 

"Yes a prisoner," Edmure growls. "You should know he threatened to catapult my newborn son if I did not surrender Riverrun to him," Edmure huffs pointing an accusing finger at Jaime. 

Jaime puts his hands up in mock surrender.

Sansa turns her head to lock eyes with Jaime. "Catapult?" She asks. 

He tries to hide his smirk. He answers quietly, "it was actually a trebuchet." 

Sansa rolls her eyes at him. 

Jaime backpedals, "I admit the threat was in poor taste, but I did find it quite effective in negotiations." 

She gives him an admonishing look before turning back to her uncle. 

"War creates terrible scenarios. Unwinnable situations," Sansa admits. She rubs her hands as if brushing the matter off. "Well at least it's settled now. Are you well?" She asks again. 

"No, I am a prisoner," Edmund snaps. "I said that." 

Sandor growls at his tone and Jaime thinks to intercede, but Sansa seems unbothered and answers faster. "Are you beaten? Are you ill? Are you starved?" There is feigned concern in her voice, she knows he's treated well. 

"No," Edmure snaps. "But I am still a prisoner. I have no free will to do as I please." 

"So you are caged?" She clarifies, "shackled?" 

"No, but I am watched and my every move is followed."

"My uncle, you do not seem to understand." She pauses then, she straightens her skirts and folds her hands on her lap. She slows her answer as if speaking with a child, "your castle was conquered. Your Lordship absolved. By the rules of conquest the castle of Riverrun and it's lands are now in the care of the Westerman, to do with as they please. You are my husband's ward, his responsibility. My husband chose to allow you to stay in your home while he completes his campaign. He allowed your family to stay. My husband's men continue to protect you as they take over the interests of Riverrun to ensure it's safety perpetually." 

"I don't need-"

"The Frey's are strong and near, they have always coveted Riverrun. Without my husband's protection of you there would be Frey banners on the ramparts."

Jaime moves his left hand to rest on hers in quiet support. 

Edmure glares at the gesture, "he keeps it for himself." 

"Does he?" Sansa answers her voice sounding sweet, but there's tempered anger there. "Answer me this dearest uncle-" 

"Yes," Edmure answers with annoyance. 

"Who is Lord of Riverrun?" 

"It has no Lord," he hisses. "It is run by a western Steward." 

"I see," Sansa answers sweetly. 

"If you were still the Lord, who is your heir in the event of your death?" Sansa asks him simply. 

"Why my son," Edmure answers back shortly. 

"The child my husband threatened?"

"Yes," he growls back. 

Jaime bristles, but Sansa squeezes his hand to reassure him she's in control. 

"And, in the event of his tragic death, who is the heir?" 

Edmure looks confused at first. Then he shakes his head. "You," he answers quietly. "The oldest daughter of Lord Hoster's oldest daughter." 

"Me," Sansa affirms. "So you insist my husband wants Riverrun to himself?" 

"Yes," Edmure growls. 

Sansa nods, "and yet if he murdered you… a man he does not like or respect-" 

Edmure scoffs. 

"-And a babe, he has threatened before. I would be the rightful heir. No battles, no more conquest. _His wife_ would be heir to Riverrun and _his children_ after her." 

"I…" Edmure starts. 

"That doesn't even consider that Riverrun has no Lord," Sansa continues. "My husband manages the lands as protector."

"But-" Edmure sputters. 

"My husband is free to name anyone as Lord here… even himself. Yet he has not declared it so. Dearest uncle use caution, remember my husband's generosity and restraint in allowing you to live." She turns to place a kiss to Jaime's jaw. "Do not question his governance or his support. Without the West and my husband, Riverrun will fall to your enemies. It is only his goodwill that keeps you out of the grave. I will hear no more bickering about what protection he deems appropriate." 

Edmure stutters as if grasping for a retort. 

"Good day," she then turns and points to the door. Sandor pushes it open. 

"Sansa-" Edmure starts. 

"Lady Lannister," she corrects. "You may go." 

Edmure stands abruptly nearly toppling his chair and storming out the door. 

"That was magnificent." Jaime whispers _in awe of her._

"It's merely the truth," she answers. "I am the Lady Lannister, I must ensure they know it."

….

Jaime

The next morning they take their leave from Riverrun. Twelve miles west of the keep Jaime stops. He slides down off his horse. He offers Sansa his hand and helps her from her mare gently. He wraps his arms around her tight and kisses her hair. He loosens his hold enough to kiss her deeply. 

She clings to his armour, "why do we stop?" She asks, watching the Lannister men continue to march past them.

"I'll battle the Stranger himself to get back to you, I swear it," his hand comes up to cup her face. 

"I don't understand?" She asks shaking her head. 

"But I'd give my life gladly to keep you safe."

"Don't say things like that," she whispers. 

He wipes a tear from her cheek. 

"Please… we can run… the West is so close." 

"Too late to run," Jaime answers. "We will stand. You… you must be kept safe."

"Sandor," he commands. Sandor encourages his horse closer, his horse snorting and stomping. 

Sansa pecks kisses to his jaw, "I love you," she sniffs. Her hands carding through his hair. "I love you… I won't leave you. I'll stay here… let our fates be intertwined."

Jaime lets their foreheads touch. "I love you," he whispers back. "Never doubt it." His hands guide her into a deep kiss, stealing his breath and hers. "My love," his voice thick with regret... _it's a goodbye._

Jaime turns his head, "Sandor… you are not my man but the Lady's. I ask you to follow this one command." Jaime lifts her onto Sandor's horse, her hands grasping at Jaime as he pulls away. 

Jaime can feel the desperation in his voice, "take her… keep her safe. I… I can't guarantee her safety here. I must stand and fight. I need you to keep her safe." 

Sandor nods to him. "She'll see this day and the next, I swear it." 

"No," she screams. Trying to fight her way off the horse. 

Jaime mounts his horse, reigning it back and reaching for Sansa one last time. As their fingertips touch he repeats, "I love you." 

Jaime then turns his horse sharply and locks eyes with Sandor. "If my plan fails, I need Sansa safe. Get her to the West… to my father… keep her safe. Go," he commands.

"No," she beats at Sandor's arms as he kicks his horse to a canter. "Jaime no." 

As Jaime watches them go, Corbrey, Willem and Olin flank Sandor. He smiles as her mare follows it's lady. Jaime can breathe again, they will keep her safe. He could use her men's swords if it comes to battle, but to keep her safe… it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. 

Jaime closes his eyes and turns to Addam who is waiting for him. "We have ten more miles to travel and we will make camp. The Goldcloaks will catch up to us tomorrow, but on the ground I choose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are a few changes to Canon.  
> ThecFrey's betrayed the Starks and Tully's I think Tywin would be slow to grant them the Riverlands. I saw a GOT map where the West help the Riverlands West of the Kingsroad and I'm running with that.  
> Edmure was taken to Casterly as prisoner. I left him in Riverrun as Jaime went east.  
> I apologize for any other plot holes I the fic, I'm doing my best and then sometimes I just throw Canon out the window because I prefer it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. I love reading all your comments and am overwhelmed by the support offered for me and this little ol' fic. Thanks for being a part of it.
> 
> I want to add a nod to Starlightasteria, her Jaimsa fic 'There is No Turning Back,' (you should read it, it's amazing) inspired parts of this fic. Although they are different I feel her story has influenced this one at times, this chapter is one of those times.


	17. Hear Me Roar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no stopping her tears now. Sansa's hands slow just gripping and pulling at the neck of his chest plate now. "What if he's captured? What if he's hurt?" She presses her cheek into her hands and sobs, collapsing against Sandor. He shifts his arm, holding her carefully. 
> 
> "What if he dies? I've known so much death… what if the gods want more?" 
> 
> She tries to sniff back the tears but she's not holding back the words. "I've been too happy… too safe. The gods will punish me now. Why are they so cruel?" She lets it all out, he can feel her body shudder and shake. "Why don't they just take me? Why do they take everything I love? Why don't they just take me?"
> 
> He watches as the strength drains from her body, as her hope fades. She sags into his arms. He wants to reassure her, tell her everything will be ok. But it'd be a lie. How will he protect her? He’s not sure but he has to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sandor_

"Let me go," Sansa growls at him. She claws at his vembrance, his mail gloves, but he doesn't flinch. "Sandor put me down. I command it!" 

He doesn't answer, he understands her anger. Leaving someone you care for in danger… it's a shit thing to do. 

"How dare you," she hisses. "How dare you steal me from my husband." 

"Didn't steal you this time," he answers cooly. 

"You did! Take me back!" She starts to pound on his breastplate. 

Sandor looks over to Corbrey, Olin and Willem, all three bow their heads and look away. 

"Take me back, take me back please," she pleads, her tears starting to fall. 

Of course the fucking lion gave him the hard job… having to watch her cry. Having to tell her no. He should obey her, he is her sworn shield after all. He’s not bound to the Lannister, only her. She’d make a foolish decision though, best to ask forgiveness later. He’s not letting her be hurt if that cocky lion’s plan fails. It was a decent enough scheme, but depending on others to do the right thing… that's never served Sandor well. 

"What if something happens?" She sniffs. "Something horrible." 

There is no stopping her tears now. Her hands slow just gripping and pulling at the neck of his chest plate now. "What if he's captured? What if he's hurt?" She presses her cheek into her hands and sobs, collapsing against him. He shifts his arm, holding her carefully. 

"What if he dies? I've known so much death… what if the gods want more?" 

She tries to sniff back the tears but she's not holding back the words. "I've been too happy… too safe. The gods will punish me now. Why are they so cruel?" She lets it all out, he can feel her body shudder and shake. "Why don't they just take me? Why do they take everything I love? Why don't they just take me?"

He watches as the strength drains from her body, as her hope fades. She sags into his arms. He wants to reassure her, tell her everything will be ok. But it'd be a lie. How will he protect her? He’s not sure but he has to try. 

It was near an hour before her tears ran dry. Before she succumbed to exhaustion. Once he's sure asleep he starts giving orders. 

"You'll never tell a soul of this… of her despair. She is hope and happiness, we won't speak of it again." 

The men nod in his direction. They all carry on in solemn silence, there’s nothing else to do. 

…

_Sansa_

"Little Bird," she hears and startles awake. 

"Sandor?" She questions.

"We're stopping to eat and piss," he answers roughly. 

She looks around, wiping the tears that have dried on her cheeks. He’s gone, Jaime’s gone and she may never see him again. 

"Get you on your own fucking horse too," Sandor grumbles.

Olin dismounts, "my Lady," he says as he offers his hand to her. She nods, and takes it. She slides off the horse and he helps her gently to the ground. 

"Thank you," she replies quietly. She doesn't meet his eyes at first, a thousand thoughts rush through her mind. The lion on Olin’s vembrance catches her eye, reminding her of Jaime. Where is he? What’s he doing? Is he safe?

"Does that mean your whining is over now?" Sandor growls as he slides off his horse. "I thought you'd never stop the woe as me shit." 

Sansa turns and glares at him. ‘Once I’m on my horse, I'll go back’ she thinks. Sandor can't stop her. 

"See there," Sandor laughs. "Anger, that’s something you can use… despair just gets ya dead." He takes two steps to her and holds out a rolled parchment. "He gave me this for you." 

Her eyes bore into his. "You knew," she accuses. "You knew he was going to send me away and you let it happen. _You lied to me_." 

"I didn't lie and I didn't _let_ anything happen. He has a plan-"

"He could have told me," she argues. "I could've helped." 

"Helped?" He laughs back. 

She points an angry finger at him, "don't you do that. Don't assume I can't help because I'm a woman." 

"I didn't assume shit," he growls back. "You're not stupid. Don't act stupid." He flicks his wrist insisting she take the note. 

She almost growls as she grabs the message from his hand, "thank you," she says sharply. 

He catches her hand though and drops something into it. "Save your chirping," he grumbles, turning away from her and pulling things from the saddlebag. She watches him go, the men congregate not far from her but give her some space.

She sinks to her knees in the grass and opens her hand. It’s Jamie’s ring. She traces the lines of the golden lion’s face, he always wears it and now he’s left it with her. What does it mean. Is there any hope to see him again? She sniffs back a tear and slides the ring onto her thumb to keep it safe, to keep it close. She unrolls the paper wiping the newly forming tears from her eyes. 

_My love,  
I'm so sorry for not telling you, but I know you'd never go otherwise.  
I vow here if I get to see you, I will never mislead you again.  
I miss you even as I write this. You are asleep in our bed but I know soon you will be far from my reach.  
I could have used your advice, you could’ve helped me find the right words. But you would've convinced me to let you stay and I will not risk your life. I cannot.  
Regardless, this battle must be fought and you must survive it. I have a plan.  
If my negotiations succeed I will be a day behind you and we can meet at the Golden Tooth. If we fail you will be safe at the Rock, wait for me there.  
I will come back to you. I will.  
Please forgive me.  
It is not hopeless.  
Your loving husband Jaime_

She can feel her eyes fill with tears. She raises her chin and closes her eyes, no more tears today. She is a Lady. She is the Lady Lannister. She is the Kingslyer’s wife. She can be brave… and she will. 

….

Jaime

As expected a messenger from the Gold Cloaks arrives late in the evening. The message is simple, meet in the morning upon neutral ground between the two sides to negotiate surrender. Jaime agrees. 

Now Jaime and Addam wait on horseback for a parlay in the agreed location. The Gold Cloak commander is late. Jaime can hear his fathers voice; _the simple minded arrive late to show their disrespect, but all it shows is uncreative unpreparedness. A Western man is only on time if he is early._

Regardless, being early gave Jaime the chance to choose the exact location of the meeting and his positioning there. He’s on a slight rise before a muddy patch of ground and his opponent will face the sun. The Gold Cloaks look disorganised, they won’t battle here and now but the disorder bolsters Jamie’s confidence in his own men. He glances behind him, the Western men are standing proud, in tight formation. They look ready for battle. 

Jaime watches as two men on horseback break from the enemy lines and make their way to them."Give us the girl," the lieutenant commands with no preamble. 

Jaime assesses the man, he’s one of the Rykker's of the Crownlands… Torrek or Tombet… or some other name he can't remember. One of the lower level lieutenants of the Gold Cloaks now a commander. Ambitious fucker if he came all this way for Cersei, he wonders what she did to warrant this devotion. 

Jaime nods to Addam and looks back to the commander. "What _girl_ is that?" Across the field he sees many Western sigils mixed with Crownland men under the Gold Cloaks command. It’s a positive sign his scouts were right and his plan has a chance. 

"The Stark girl, the redheaded one" the man growls back. "Sansa Stark. Give her to me and there will be no bloodshed. I'll let you slink away with your tail between your legs." 

"There is no Stark girl here," Jaime snaps back and readjusts in the saddle. 

The man narrows his eyes. 

"Oh, you mean Lady Sansa Lannister." Jaime smiles at first then schools his features, "you want to steal a Lannister from the West? _The Lady Lannister?_ That will never happen." 

"I have orders-" 

"Orders?" Jaime raises his voice to carry into the infantry lines. "You stand against House Lannister all of you. You stand _against_ the Warden of the West. An act not to be taken lightly." 

"We serve Cersei-" the commander starts. 

"Cersei Baratheon," Jaime booms. "Any Westerner who does not want to die a traitor to your homeland will throw down his sword and beg forgiveness for this insult. Everyone knows Lannisters pay their debts." 

A few men in the ranks shift nervously but the commander smirks… he doesn't truly understand. _Good._

"There is forgiveness in me," Jaime offers with a smile, "no blood must be shed." Jaime addresses the men of the opposition. "Men of the West you followed your commander to battle, for that I find you faultless. You were following orders, what a true Westerner would do. But now the West calls you to defend it, to protect it's Lady. To protect it's legacy. Your commander is a man of the Crownlands… he doesn't understand what it means to be a Westerner. That a Westerner would _never_ march against his Lord. The truth of your path is decided here and now. Do you wish to put your family aside, to stand as an enemy to the West? To betray your own blood. To betray the West?" 

"My position-" the commander defends. 

Jaime ignores him and raises his voice to carry across the field. "Do you mean to tell me a Gold Cloak is superior to the Red of the West?" 

Jaime's own men growl their displeasure at his words, stomping their feet in protest.

"Is that all the _pride_ the West can muster now.” Jaime mocks, “pride in wearing a _Gold Cloak?_ " 

He sees the subtle shake of a head here and there, the shame and doubt in the men he faces. 

"Then put down your arms and bend the knee and be my brother in arms. Fight for me, defend the West from all those who seek to harm her," Jaime offers. "Ask for forgiveness and I will grant it. Try me and you will fall." 

The commander is quiet. 

A lone drum starts to beat out a slow melody deep in Jaime's ranks, a melody he knows all too well. A song every man in the West loves and respects. He turns his head to it before smiling back at the commander with pride that only a lion can call upon. 

A lone voice starts to sing the lyrics…

_And who are you the proud Lord said that I should bow so low?_

His men pick up the tune and sing the words with ominous intent. He can even see the lips of a few of the Gold Cloak's men, silently singing along. There's a chance… there’s a chance this might work.

 _Only a cat of a different coat that's all I know.  
In a coat of red or a coat of gold the lion still has its claws.  
But mine are long and sharp my Lord, as long and sharp as yours._

_And so he spoke, and so he spoke that Lord of Castamere.  
And now the rains weep o'er his halls without no one to hear._

Jamie encourages his horse to pace. He directs his words to the commander, "you rode hard to catch us, to catch us before we crossed the Golden Tooth. Before we entered the West." Jaime smiles menacingly, "you forget ser… the West was given the Riverlands to hold, to govern… to rule. Given to me, after the West conquered them. To meet me here, is to challenge me in my own lands. An invasion. _An act of war_."

The commander pales. The man hadn't realized his misstep. 

"The West no longer serves the crown. The Lions are done bowing to Stags. I am the Lion of the West and I am the Kingslayer. I will no longer abide by the taint of the crown." 

He looks to the commander. "You come to my lands and demand the woman I have named my wife. To steal a lion's mate," Jaime shakes his head and lowers his voice to a growl, "stand against me if you dare. A lion protects his own… and she is mine."

A movement on his right catches his eye, a soldier rips off his golden cloak, pushing past the men ahead of him. He stops 10 yards from Jaime and takes a knee. His head bowed, he pulls his sword from its sheath and sticks it into the ground. "I am a Swyft, I am the West.” He raises his eyes to meet Jaime's, "I fight for the West."

Another soldier follows suit. "I am a Bracken, I fight for the West." 

Then more, cloaks discarded, men sinking to their knees, heads bowing down. Westerman and even some Crownland men join his ranks. 

"You cannot-" the commander demands. 

"I can," Jaime answers. "Lay down your weapon and I will consider leniency. You can be my honored guest." 

"The Queen-" 

"What Queen?" Jaime interrupts. "The West no longer kneels to the crown." 

Jaime can see the man's eyes search for an escape. More and more Gold Cloaks have taken a knee. The commander looks panicked… he should be. The man pulls his sword and charges. Jaime pulls his sword to meet the assault. He can hear his mean ready for battle shields lock and spears are set. It will end here and now. 

Jaime takes a deep breath and whispers a prayer, “Sansa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they are not back together yet, but soon I hope. Somehow one chapter often seems to turn into two or three. What can I do?  
> A bit of angst, a reunion and Tywin coming in the next few chapters. Yay!!  
> Thank you so much for reading, I'm so glad that people are enjoying this story. I'm having fun on my end.


	18. A Wish & a Promise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are late,” Lady Lefford offers with a shallow curtsy. “We expected you yesterday morning.” 
> 
> Sansa doesn’t answer. She holds the Lady’s gaze and lets a small knowing smile grace her lips. Lady Lefford would never scold any other Lannister that they were late. Tywin, Jaime, Cersei and even Tyrion would never hear that they had inconvenienced their host. Sansa is here now. This is when she arrived… not early, not late… now. The moment lingers, neither willing to back down. This cold insistence of etiquette is not the game Sansa wants to play. If the Lady means to test her though she will not find a flaw. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three days later Sansa was sitting alone in a small inn outside of the Golden Tooth. The room was clean, the bed made of straw, but it was warm and dry. She was grateful. It was the first _real_ bed she’s had in days. She is trying her best to count her blessings. She can’t help as her mind wanders back to Jaime and she wonders where he might be. Is he safe? Is he on his way back to her? 

_That first day she didn’t turn back. She was on her own horse and she remembers stopping and turning her mount to look east. To look toward Jaime. She had wanted to run, to push her mare into a gallop to get back to him. It had all been a silly dream though. As she looked east there were trees, fields and streams, none of which she knew. Nothing which would lead her back to him. She had no idea how far they had gone or even which direction Jaime had headed. She decided then and there it was time to move forward. Move forward into the West and into her future. To have faith in herself. She had to be strong. To persevere. It is time to be the Lady she was always meant to be._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. She takes a deep breath and straightens her skirts before folding her hands in her lap. 

"Come in," she calls. 

Sandor enters and scans her room before speaking. “Food will be up soon,” he rasps, checking the window latch again and circling her room. 

“The room is safe,” she argues. “You already checked it twice, and Willem did too.” 

He just side-eyes her and continues. “One of us will be outside your door all night, the others will sleep next door.” 

“Thank you,” she answers softly. “Sandor… do you think he’s alright?”

She watches him take a deep breath, he gestures to the chair across from her. 

“Please,” as she nods back. 

“Jaime… he is resilient,” Sandor admits. “He has a plan. Addam’s with him too, he won’t let him do anything stupid. He has good men with him. Everything he needs. Corbrey heard downstairs two companies of Westerman marched out of the Tooth headed East. They should’ve made it in time. He’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she whispers. 

He seems to shift uncomfortably. "I have something to tell you… it's about your sister." 

"Arya?" She gasps. 

"We traveled together for a bit," he offers, his eyes focused on his own hands. 

"Traveled together?” She repeats. Then she looks at him suspiciously, “so you two just met on the road and decided to travel together? How serendipitous," she narrows her eyes at him. 

His eyes first look cold and indifferent. But she maintains her stare. 

He scowls and scrubs his face with his hand. "I stole her from the Brothers Without Banners for ransom. They stole my gold," he admits. 

"See that rings with truth," she scolds. 

"I drug her around… tried to ransom her to your family-" 

"You saw them?" She interrupts, “my mother, Robb?” 

"No, we made it to the Twins… but the deed was done," Sandor answers. 

"But Arya?" 

"Then we tried your Aunt Lysa," his voice trailing off. 

Sansa looks up to him confused. “You were in the Vale?" She whispers. 

"Yeah, we got nearly to the Bloody Gate before we heard of Lysa Arryn’s death," Sandor sighs and cracks his knuckles. "Didn’t see much point in continuing after that." 

"You were in the Vale," she repeats quietly. 

"If I'd known… I would've come for you."

She just shakes her head slightly. "Where's Arya now?" 

"I… I was injured… my brother’s men attacked us. She left me for dead," he pauses. "Can't blame her though. No idea where she is now." 

"Thank you," Sansa says slowly, reaching out to pat his hand. 

“She’s a tough one though, scrapy. Dressed as a boy to keep herself safe,” he offers. “She’ll be alright, don’t worry about her.” 

Sansa just nods and they sit in silence.

....

Sansa insists her men eat with her like they did while they were traveling. They tell stories of their homes and lives and she feels as though she understands them better with every passing day. She will do this in the West, make sure the men under her and her husbands command and have access to those they pledged to serve. 

They make a tentative plan for their arrival at the Golden Tooth. Lady Lefford is known to be shrewd and difficult, Sansa will have to tread carefully to get the Lady on her side. She will get her gown back from the laundress in the morning, cleaned and repaired. Tomorrow they will enter the Golden Tooth, the Gateway to the West and her first true test as it’s Lady. She would prefer to have her husband by her side, but she will be strong. They decide Olin and Willem will take point and lead. They are from proud Western houses, Sandor’s name is tarnished at best and Ser Corbrey is a stranger to these lands. 

….

Lady Alysanne Lefford is skeptical, Sansa can see it in her eyes as she approaches. Her eyes are a blue as a spring sky, but with a sharpness to them Sansa is sure comes from ruling here alone. 

Here... I am Jaime's wife, Sansa thinks, nothing more. A pretty jewel to decorate her husband's arm. A broodmare for heirs and dowry’s. Lady Lefford is not to be underestimated. Sansa must show her that she is more than just a pretty face. 

Sansa takes a deep breath, her husband rules these lands… she has nothing to fear. _I will make them love me,_ she tells herself. She's been in a hostel court before, Lady Lefford is no Cersei after all. She's glad now they stopped at the Inn for her to clean up and change, she can show no weakness here. A wolf among lions must not look like prey. These are her people to win over. Fear and doubt are no help here. _I will make them love me,_ she repeats in her head. She can feel the Lady’s eyes judging her every move. She pushes down her fears and draws strength from it. She let’s Olin help her from her horse and straightens her posture as she approaches. 

“My Lady Lefford, I am happy to meet you.” She offers her a slight bow of her head. Enough to show respect, but she will not betray her station for courtesy. She is married to the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West and the Golden Tooth is one of it’s vassals. 

“You are late,” Lady Lefford offers with a shallow curtsy. “We expected you yesterday morning.” 

Sansa doesn’t answer. She holds the Lady’s gaze and lets a small knowing smile grace her lips. Lady Lefford would never scold any other Lannister that they were late. Tywin, Jaime, Cersei and even Tyrion would never hear that they had inconvenienced their host. Sansa is here now. This is when she arrived… not early, not late… now. The moment lingers, neither willing to back down. This cold insistence of etiquette is not the game Sansa wants to play. If the Lady means to test her though she will not find a flaw. 

She holds her stare steady but softens her smile as she offers the Lady a boon. “I hear the gardens here are magnificent. Will there be time later for me to stroll and enjoy the wonder that is the Golden Tooth?” 

“Of course my Lady, I welcome you to treat my home as if it is your own,” the Lady answers with a cool tone. 

“I thank you for your courtesy,” Sansa answers, making sure to smile while she speaks. “I expect my husband and his men will be arriving soon to join me.” 

“Oh my Lady you haven’t heard.” 

What does that mean? Sansa wants to scream, she holds it back though. She holds her breath and lets her face settle into a mask. “Is there news?” Sansa manages to ask without her voice breaking. 

“Your Lord Husband has been delayed,” the Lady replies. 

Sansa lets her breath out with slow control. The expression on the Lady’s face is still holding something back. She can see Sandor and Olin shift in her periphery, they’re nervous too. 

“You’ve been summoned to the Rock,” Lady Lefford looks smug now. “The Great Lion calls.” 

A million thoughts race through her head at once. Her training wins out though, maybe she is just a pretty chirping bird. “I am happy to hear that my husband's family cares for me so. When shall we leave?” Her voice calm and collected. 

“We plan to leave tomorrow after we break our fast,” the Lady answers with an edge to her voice. “If the Lady Lannister finds it acceptable?” 

“I look forward to it,” Sansa answers automatically. Sansa has half a mind to delay departure just to flex her power but she sees no reason to linger here without Jaime. 

“Lord Jaime sent a message for you as well,” Lady Lefford says, holding out a small rolled parchment. 

Another powerplay. Sansa nods back gently and raises her open hand waiting for the Lady to come to her. This Lady plans to test her patience at every turn. After a moment Lady Lefford concedes defeat and steps forward placing the letter in Sansa’s hand. She lets her hand drop and gives the appearance the letter is no concern as it burns to be read. 

“Let my steward show you to your chambers,” she offers with a small bow. 

Sansa bites back a sharp retort, but she considers the Lady’s perspective. The Lord of the land marries while far from home and sends his young wife ahead of him. A woman from a warring house comes to insist fealty as the Lord’s new wife. Is the cold shoulder directed at her really unexspected? Do not fault her, the war is only newly over and bandits still run free. Their caution has kept them safe. Maybe she should try another tactic, a softer way. I am not Cersei, I want to be loved not feared. 

“Lady Lefford… would you mind accompanying me? I've been in the company of men for weeks now and I fear I long for the understanding of the femine ear.” 

The Lady’s face turns to one of confusion, “of course my Lady.” 

Sansa steps forward and takes her arm. “Please call me Sansa,” she leans in like she’s conspiring. “The men thrive on posturing and formality; let us try for friendship instead.”

She watches the Lady’s eyes soften some, “then I must insist you call me Alysanne as well.” 

“A beautiful name,” Sansa answers sweetly. 

“Th-thank you,” she answers. 

“Please, tell me about the West,” Sansa asks sweetly. She starts to walk through the main doors, guiding the Lady… no Alysanne. 

“Well I am the Lady of the Golden Tooth, the Lefford’s have ruled here-”

Sansa interrupts, it’s a risk but she needs to make friends not just allies. “The Lefford’s have held the seat as Guardian of the Gateway to the West for hundreds of years. Since before the dragons washed up on our shores. They have been steadfast and a reason the West has prospered as it has.” 

“I’m impressed, my Lady,” Alysanne answers. 

“I know the histories of the Seven Kingdoms, but I want more. The lives, the struggles, the joys… that’s what makes a place a home. I want to understand the West beyond what the books say.” Sansa can still see the doubt in Alysanne’s eyes, but they are softer and her tone is warmer. "What concerns do you have here, to recover from the war? What do you need to be prepared for winter?” 

As they walk and chat Sansa finds her heart grow lighter. Alysanne sits with her for nearly an hour discussing the West and it’s people. It is not a ruse, Sansa cares although she longs to read Jaime’s letter as well. She missed the company of a woman more than she realized. She laughs and listens, feeling this small slip in court decorium has granted more than she had hoped for. 

As Alysanne leaves she offers a boon. “Sansa, my Lady of the Rock, I would like to accompany your party to the edge of my lands. I cannot leave the Tooth, but I would like to offer that small support as you travel west.” 

“That would be lovely,” Sansa answers. She places her hands over Alysanne’s and offers sincerely, “I appreciate your hospitality. I will not forget the care you have shown me.” 

As Alysanne leaves the room Sansa feels the heaviness of exhaustion drag on her body. A few moments after the door closes Sandor nods to her the coast is clear. Sansa lets her posture wilt. 

“How did I do?” Sansa asks Sandor, but she sees Olin, Willem and Corbrey smile in her direction .

“You did well,” Sandor admits. “I think she’d have fought you tooth and nail if kept up that pissin’ contest.”

Olin clears his throat and Sansa turns and nods at him to continue. 

“The Lady Lefford is a strong woman, I grew up in the hills not far from here.” Olin starts, “she ran this keep long before her brother died and I’d bet she’ll run it for years to come. Your brother shamed her family by using that goat trail and invading on their watch. To have her soften to a woman born Stark is no simple feat. Also I guarantee you no one will get past her again.”

“Then she’s an ally to have and a friend to make,” Sansa answers. “The risk was worth it. Thank you.” 

Olin nods back. 

“Check the room,” Sandor commands. 

The four men separate and check every inch of the room. For what dangers she’s not even sure but she’s happy when they’re done and file out the door. Sandor lags behind.

“You did well,” Sandor says quietly. “Read your letter, I’ll give you some time and get a girl to bring you in a tub.” 

“Thank you,” she offers on the verge of tears. 

He closes the door and she can no longer hold back the tears. She unrolls the letter and whispers out loud, “Jaime I need you, where are you?” She has to blink back the tears to even read his letter. 

_My love,_

_I’ve thought of you every moment since we’ve been apart.  
I long to feel you close again.  
I am safe and whole. I hope this letter finds you safe and well.  
I regret I have another task to complete before I can be with you.  
Two days always sounded like nothing, but now it’s too long. An eternity.  
A friend of mine, Brienne I mentioned, she had a messenger bring me a letter… she swears she knows where the missing Stark girl is. Your sister my love, how could I deny you that. How could I say no? I wish to speak to you, to gain your council, but wishes grant us nothing. But even then I still wish you were her with every breath I take, and yet I’m glad you are safe and warm.  
I will send another raven tomorrow, let you know what I learn. Brienne reported the girl is a half day away, I may have her safely in my care by then.  
Every moment without you is painful.  
I will come to you and hold you and never let you go.  
That is not a wish, it is a promise. _

_With love, Jaime_

She sputters out a laugh through her tears. He’s terrible and ridiculous and her’s. She can’t wait to see him again. Soon he says, soon. She scans the letter again and notices the date. Two days ago he wrote this and yet there is no second letter. The hope that bloomed turns back to worry. Who is this woman that calls for Jaime? Is she trustworthy? Who has her sister? Is she safe? Is Jaime? She has more questions than answers. She moves to the bed and sinks into the pillows. She spins his lion ring on her finger and whispers, “you promised to come back to me… keep your word. Keep your word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this into two chapters. Sansa should be at the Rock next chapter finally. Enter Tywin. What is he going to think of his new good-daughter?   
> I try to follow book Canon more than the show. Brienne was in a perilous situation at the end of the last books and had to make a difficult decision. We will find out what that means for Jaime.   
> I really wanted to show the harsh games that Sansa has learned, but that her gentle heart is not completely gone either.   
> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn’t get this little thing out of my head. Worked on it on my down time at work on the notes app of my phone so hopefully I fixed all the punctuation. 
> 
> Hope you like it.
> 
> A may do a follow up or two?!?
> 
> Find me on tumblr now @redbirdblackdog


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